ROSALIN 


H'ikI 


\    / 

•  K 

r  z 


a 


Mrs. 

Mildred  Clemens 
Lewis  • 

ROSALIND  AT  RED  GATE 


BY  MEREDITH  NICHOLSON 


THE  HOUSE  OF  A  THOUSAND  CANDLES 
Illustrated  by  Howard  Chandler  Christy 
12mo,  Cloth  $1.50 

THE  PORT  OF  MISSING  MEN 

Illustrated  by          Clarence  F.  Underwood 
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ZELDA  DAMERON 
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THE  MAIN  CHANCE 
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POEMS 

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THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 
INDIANAPOLIS 


The  carnival  of  canoes 


ROSALIND  AT  RED  GATE 


Bg 
MEREDITH  NICHOLSON 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS   BY 

ARTHUR  I.  KELLER 


INDIANAPOLIS 

THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT  1907 
THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 


NOVEMBER 


GIFT 


TO  MY  MOTHER 


Rosalind:     I  thought  thy  heart  had  been  wounded  with 
the  claws  of  a  lion. 

Orlando:      Wounded  it  is,  but  with  the  eyes  of  a  lady. 

As  You  LIKE  IT. 


66  Then  dame  Liones  said  unto  Sir  Gareth,  Sir,  I  will 
lend  you  a  ring,  but  I  would  pray  you  as  ye  love  me 
heartily  let  me  have  it  again  when  the  tournament  is  done, 
for  that  ring1  increaseth  my  beauty  much  more  than  it  is 
of  itself.  And  the  virtue  of  my  ring  is  that  that  is  green 
it  will  turn  to  red,  and  that  is  red  it  will  turn  in  likeness 
to  green,  and  that  is  blue  it  will  turn  to  likeness  of  white, 
and  that  is  white,  it  will  turn  in  likeness  to  blue,  and  so 
it  will  do  of  all  manner  of  colours.  '  * 

MOBTE  DARTHUH. 


MC36710 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  A  Telegram  from  Paul  Stoddard      .        .        .        1 

II  Confidences 21 

III  I  Meet  Mr.  Reginald  Gillespie  ....      39 

IV  I  Explore  Tippecanoe  Creek     ....      62 
V  A  Fight  on  a  Honse-Boat          .  .74 

VI  A  Sunday's  Mixed  Affairs          .        .  92 

VII  A  Broken  Oar HO 

VIII  A  Lady  of  Shadows  and  Starlight    .        .        .126 

IX  The  Lights  on  St.  Agatha's  Pier       .        .        .    141 

X  The  Flutter  of  a  Handkerchief        .        .        .159 

XI  The  Carnival  of  Canoes 171 

XII  The  Melancholy  of  Mr.  Gillespie     .        .        .182 

XIII  The  Gate  of  Dreams 198 

XIV  Battle  Orchard 211 

XV  I  Undertake  v  Commission       ....    227 

XVI   An  Odd  Affair  at  Red  Gate          ....    237 

XVII   How  the  Night  Ended 255 

XVIII   The  Lady  of  the  White  Butterflies  .        .        .263 

XIX    Helen  Takes  Me  to  Task 280 

XX   The  Touch  of  Dishonor 291 

XXI   A  Blue  Cloak  and  a  Scarlet       .        .        .        .303 
XXII    Mr.  Gillespie's  Diversions         .        .        .        .328 

XXIII  The  Rocket  Signal 347 

XXIV  "With My  Hands" 365 

XXV   Daybreak     .  379 


ROSALIND  AT  RED  GATE 


KOSALIND  AT  KED  GATE 

CHAPTER  I 

A   TELEGRAM   FROM   PAUL   STODDARD 

Up,  up,  my  heart!   Up,  up,  my  heart, 

This  day  was  made  for  thee! 
For  soon  the  hawthorn  spray  shall  part, 

And  thou  a  face  shalt  see 
That  comes,  O  heart,  O  foolish  heart, 

This  way  to  gladden  thee. 

— H.  C.  Bunner. 

StoddarcPs  telegram  was  brought  to  me  on  the  Glen- 
arm  pier  at  four  o'clock  Tuesday  afternoon.,  the  fifth 
of  June.  I  am  thus  explicit,  for  all  the  matters  here 
inafter  described  turn  upon  the  receipt  of  Stoddard's 
message,  which  was,  to  be  sure,  harmless  enough  in  it 
self,  but,  like  many  other  scraps  of  paper  that  blow 
about  the  world,  the  forerunner  of  confusion  and 
trouble. 

My  friend,  Mr.  John  Glenarm,  had  gone  abroad  for 
the  summer  with  his  family  and  had  turned  over  to  me 

1 


2  ROSALIND   AT    RED    GATE 

his  house  at  Annandale  that  I  might  enjoy  its  seclusion 
and  comfort  while  writing  my  book  on  Russian  Rivers. 
If  John  Glenarm  had  not  taken  his  family  abroad 
with  him  when  he  went  to  Turkey  to  give  the  sultan's 
engineers  lessons  in  bridge  building;  if  I  had  not  ac 
cepted  his  kind  offer  of  the  house  at  Annandale  for 
the  summer ;  and  if  Paul  Stoddard  had  not  sent  me  that 
telegram,  I  should  never  have  written  this  narrative. 
But  such  was  the  predestined  way  of  it.  I  rose  from 
the  boat  I  was  caulking,  and,  with  the  waves  from  the 
receding  steamer  slapping  the  pier,  read  this  message : 

STAMFORD,  Conn.,  June  5. 

Meet  Miss  Patricia  Holbrook  Annandale  station,  five 
twenty  Chicago  express  and  conduct  her  to  St.  Agatha's 
school,  where  she  is  expected.  She  will  explain  difficulties. 
I  have  assured  her  of  your  sympathy  and  aid.  Will  join  you 
later  if  necessary.  Imperative  engagements  call  me  else 
where.  STODDABD. 

To  say  that  I  was  angry  when  I  read  this  message  is 
to  belittle  the  truth.  I  read  and  re-read  it  with  growing 
heat.  I  had  accepted  Glenarm's  offer  of  the  house  at 
Annandale  because  it  promised  peace,  and  now  I  was 
ordered  by  telegraph  to  meet  a  strange  person  of  whom 
I  had  never  heard,  listen  to  her  story,  and  tender  my 
sympathy  and  aid.  I  glanced  at  my  watch.  It  was 


A   TELEGKAM  3 

already  after  four.,  "Delayed  in  transmission"  was 
stamped  across  the  telegraph  form — I  learned  later  that 
it  had  lain  half  the  day  in  Annandale,  New  York — so 
that  I  was  now  face  to  face  with  the  situation,  and  with 
out  opportunity  to  fling  his  orders  back  to  Stoddard  if  I 
wanted  to.  Nor  did  I  even  know  Stamford  from  Stam- 
boul,  and  I  am  not  yet  clear  in  my  mind — being  an  Irish 
man  with  rather  vague  notions  of  American  geography 
— whether  Connecticut  is  north  or  south  of  Massachu 
setts. 

"Ijima !" 

I  called  my  Japanese  boy  from  the  boat-house,  and 
he  appeared,  paint-brush  in  hand. 

"Order  the  double  trap,  and  tell  them  to  hurry/' 

I  reflected,  as  I  picked  up  my  coat  and  walked  toward 
the  house,  that  if  any  one  but  Paul  Stoddard  had  sent 
me  such  a  message  I  should  most  certainly  have  ignored 
it ;  but  I  knew  him  as  a  man  who  did  not  make  demands 
or  impose  obligations  lightly.  As  the  founder  and  su 
perior  of  the  Protestant  religious  Order  of  the  Brothers 
of  Bethlehem  he  was,  I  knew,  an  exceedingly  busy  man. 
His  religious  house  was  in  the  Virginia  mountains; 
but  he  spent  much  time  in  quiet,  humble  service  in 
city  slums,  in  lumber-camps,  in  the  mines  of  Pennsyl- 


4  ROSALIND    AT    EED    GATE 

vania ;  and'bccasionaliy  he  appeared  like  a  prophet  from 
the  wilderness  in  some  great  church  of  New  York.,  and 
preached  with  a  marvelous  eloquence  to  wondering 
throngs. 

The  trap  swung  into  the  arched  driveway  and  I  bade 
the  coachman  make  haste  to  the  Annandale  station.  Tlia 
handsome  bays  were  soon  trotting  swiftly  toward  the 
village,  while  I  drew  on  my  gloves  and  considered  the 
situation.  A  certain  Miss  Holbrook,  of  whose  existence 
I  had  been  utterly  ignorant  an  hour  before,  was  about 
to  arrive  at  Annandale.  A  clergyman,  whom  I  had 
not  seen  for  two  years,  had  telegraphed  me  from  a 
town  in  Connecticut  to  meet  this  person,  conduct  her 
to  St.  Agatha's  School — just  closed  for  the  summer,  as 
I  knew — and  to  volunteer  my  services  in  difficulties 
that  were  darkly  indicated  in  a  telegram  of  forty-five 
words.  The  sender  of  the  message  I  knew  to  be  a  serious 
character,  and  a  gentleman  of  distinguished  social 
connections.  The  name  of  the  lady  signified  nothing 
except  that  she  was  unmarried;  and  as  Stoddard's  ac 
quaintance  was  among  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men 
I  could  assume  nothing  more  than  that  the  unknown 
had  appealed  to  him  as  a  priest  and  that  he  had  sent 
her  to  Lake  Annandale  to  shake  off  the  burdens  of  the 


A    TELEGRAM  5 

world  in  the  conventual  air  of  St.  Agatha's.  High 
born  Italian  ladies,  I  knew,  often  retired  to  remote 
convents  in  the  Italian  hills  for  meditation  or  penance. 
Miss  Holbrookes  age  I  placed  conservatively  at  twenty- 
nine;  for  no  better  reason,  perhaps,  than  that  I  am 
thirty-two. 

The  blue  arch  of  June  does  not  encourage  difficulties, 
doubts  or  presentiments ;  and  with  the  wild  rose  abloom 
along  the  fences  and  with  robins  tossing  their  song 
across  the  highway  I  ceased  to  growl  and  found  curiosity 
getting  the  better  of  my  temper.  Expectancy,  after  all, 
is  the  cheerfullest  tonic  of  life,  and  when  the  time  comes 
when  I  can  see  the  whole  of  a  day's  programme  from 
my  breakfast-table  I  shall  be  ready  for  man's  last  ad 
venture. 

I  smoothed  my  gloves  and  fumbled  my  tie  as  the 
bays  trotted  briskly  along  the  lake  shore.  The  Chicago 
express  whistled  for  Annandale  just  as  we  gained  the 
edge  of  the  village.  It  paused  a  grudging  moment  and 
was  gone  before  we  reached  the  station.  I  jumped  out 
and  ran  through  the  waiting-room  to  the  platform,  where 
the  agent  was  gathering  up  the  mail-bags,  while  an  as 
sistant  loaded  a  truck  with  trunks.  I  glanced  about,  and 
the  moment  was  an  important  one  in  my  life.  Standing 


6  ROSALIND    AT    RED    GATtf 

quite  alone  beside  several  pieces  of  hand-baggage  was  a 
lady — unmistakably  a  lady — leaning  lightly  upon  an 
umbrella,,  and  holding  under  her  arm  a  magazine.  She 
was  clad  in  brown,  from  bonnet  to  shoes ;  the  umbrella 
and  magazine  cover  were  of  like  tint,  and  even  the  suit 
case  nearest  her  struck  the  same  note  of  color.  There  was 
no  doubt  whatever  as  to  her  identity ;  I  did  not  hesitate  a 
moment ;  the  lady  in  brown  was  Miss  Holbrook,  and  she 
was  an  old  lady,  a  dear,  bewitching  old  lady,  and  as  I 
stepped  toward  her,  her  eyes  brightened — they,  too, 
were  brown ! — and  she  put  out  her  brown-gloved  hand 
with  a  gesture  so  frank  and  cordial  that  I  was  won  at 
once. 

"Mr.  Donovan — Mr.  Laurance  Donovan — I  am  sure 
of  it!" 

"Miss  Holbrook — I  am  equally  confident!"  I  said. 
"I  am  sorry  to  be  late,  but  Father  Stoddard's  message 
was  delayed." 

"'You  are  kind  to  respond  at  all,"  she  said,  her  won 
derful  eyes  upon  me;  "but  Father  Stoddard  said  you 
would  not  fail  me." 

"He  is  a  man  of  great  faith!  But  I  have  a  trap 
waiting.  We  can  talk  more  comfortably  at  St.  Aga 
tha's." 


A    TELEGRAM  7 

"Yes;  we  are  to  go  to  the  school.  Father  Stoddard 
kindly  arranged  it.  It  is  quite  secluded,,  he  assured  me." 

"You  will  not  be  disappointed,  Miss  Holbrook,  if  se 
clusion  is  what  you  seek/' 

I  picked  up  the  brown  bag  and  turned  away,  but  she 
waited  and  glanced  about.  Her  "we"  had  puzzled  me; 
perhaps  she  had  brought  a  maid,  and  I  followed  her 
glance  toward  the  window  of  the  telegraph  office. 

"Oh,  Helen ;  my  niece,  Helen  Holbrook,  is  with  me.  I 
wished  to  wire  some  instructions  to  my  housekeeper  at 
home.  Father  Stoddard  may  not  have  explained — that 
it  is  partly  on  Helen's  account  that  I  am  coming  here." 

"No;  he  explained  nothing — merely  gave  me  my  in 
structions,"  I  laughed.  "He  gives  orders  in  a  most 
militant  fashion." 

In  a  moment  I  had  been  presented  to  the  niece,  and 
had  noted  that  she  was  considerably  above  her  aunt's 
height;  that  she  was  dark,  with  eyes  that  seemed  quite 
black  in  certain  lights,  and  that  she  bowed,  as  her  aunt 
presented  me,  without  offering  her  hand,  and  murmured 
my  name  in  a  voice  musical,  deep  and  full,  and  agree 
able  to  hear. 

She  took  their  checks  from  her  purse,  and  I  called  the 
porter  and  arranged  for  the  transfer  of  their  luggage 


8  KOSALIND   AT   EED    GATE 

to  St.  Agatha's.  We  were  soon  in  the  trap  with  the 
bays  carrying  us  at  a  lively  clip  along  the  lake  road. 
It  was  all  perfectly  new  to  them  and  they  expressed  their 
delight  in  the  freshness  of  the  young  foliage ;  the  billow 
ing  fields  of  ripening  wheat,  the  wild  rose,  blackberry 
and  elderberry  filling  the  angles  of  the  stake-and-rider 
fences,  and  the  flashing  waters  of  the  lake  that  carried 
the  eye  to  distant  wooded  shores.  I  turned  in  my  seat  by 
the  driver  to  answer  their  questions. 

"There's  a  summer  resort  somewhere  on  the  lake; 
how  far  is  that  from  the  school  ?"  asked  the  girl. 

"That's  Port  Annandale.  It's  two  or  three  miles  from 
St.  Agatha's,"  I  replied.  "On  this  side  and  all  the  way 
to  the  school  there  are  farms.  The  lake  looks  like  an 
oval  pond  as  we  see  it  here,  but  there  are  several  long 
arms  that  creep  off  into  the  woods,  and  there's  another 
lake  of  considerable  size  to  the  north.  Port  Annandale 
lies  yonder." 

"Of  course  we  shall  see  nothing  of  it,"  said  the 
younger  Miss  Holbrook  with  finality. 

I  sought  in  vain  for  any  resemblance  between  the  two 
women ;  they  were  utterly  unlike.  The  little  brown  lady 
was  interested  and  responsive  enough;  she  turned 
toward  her  niece  with  undisguised  affection  as  we  talked, 


A    TELEGRAM  9 

but  I  caught  several  times  a  look  of  unhappiness  in  her 
face,  and  the  brow  that  Time  had  not  touched  gathered 
in  lines  of  anxiety  and  care.  The  girl's  manner  toward 
her  aunt  was  wholly  kind  and  sympathetic. 

"I'm  sure  it  will  be  delightful  here,  Aunt  Pat.  Wild 
roses  and  blue  water !  I'm  quite  in  love  with  the  pretty 
lake  already." 

This  was  my  first  introduction  to  the  diminutive  of 
Patricia,  and  it  seemed  very  fitting,  and  as  delightful 
as  the  dear  little  woman  herself.  She  must  have  caught 
my  smile  as  the  niece  so  addressed  her  for  the  first 
time  and  she  smiled  back  at  me  in  her  charming 
fashion. 

"You  are  an  Irishman,  Mr.  Donovan,  and  Pat  must 
sound  natural." 

"Oh,  all  who  love  Aunt  Patricia  call  her  Aunt  Pat  I" 
exclaimed  the  girl. 

"Then  Miss  Holbrook  undoubtedly  hears  it  often," 
said  I,  and  was  at  once  sorry  for  my  bit  of  blarney,  for 
the  tears  shone  suddenly  in  the  dear  brown  eyes,  and  the 
niece  recurred  to  the  summer  landscape  as  a  topic,  and 
talked  of  the  Glenarm  place,  whose  stone  wall  we  were 
now  passing,  until  we  drove  into  the  grounds  of  St. 
Agatha's  and  up  to  the  main  entrance  of  the  school, 


10  EOSALIND    AT    EED    GATE 

where  a  Sister  in  the  brown  garb  of  her  order  stood 
waiting. 

I  first  introduced  myself  to  Sister  Margaret,  who  was 
in  charge,  and  then  presented  the  two  ladies  who  were 
to  be  her  guests.  It  was  disclosed  that  Sister  Theresa, 
the  head  of  the  school,  had  wired  instructions  from 
York  Harbor,  where  she  was  spending  the  summer, 
touching  Miss  Holbrook's  reception,  and  her  own  rooms 
were  at  the  disposal  of  the  guests.  St.  Agatha's  is,  as 
all  who  are  attentive  to  such  matters  know,  a  famous 
girls'  school  founded  by  Sister  Theresa,  and  one  felt  its 
quality  in  the  appointments  of  the  pretty,  cool  parlor 
where  we  were  received.  Sister  Margaret  said  just  the 
right  thing  to. every  one,  and  I  was  glad  to  find  her  so 
capable  a  person,  fully  able  to  care  for  these  exiles  with 
out  aid  from  my  side  of  the  wall.  She  was  a  tall,  fair 
young  woman,  with  a  cheerful  countenance,  and  her 
merry  eyes  seemed  always  to  be  laughing  at  one  from 
the  depths  of  her  brown  hood.  Pleasantly  hospitable, 
she  rang  for  a  maid. 

"Helen,  if  you  will  see  our  things  disposed  of  I  will 
detain  Mr.  Donovan  a  few  minutes,"  said  Miss  Hoi- 
brook. 

"Or  I  can  come  again  in  an  hour — I  am  your  near 


A    TELEGRAM  11 

neighbor,"  I  remarked,  thinking  she  might  wish  to  rest 
from  her  journey. 

"I  am  quite  ready/'  she  replied,  and  I  bowed  to  Helen 
Holbrook  and  to  Sister  Margaret,  who  went  out,  fol 
lowed  by  the  maid.  Miss  Pat — you  will  pardon  me  if  I 
begin  at  once  to  call  her  by  this  name,  but  it  fits  her  so 
capitalty,  it  is  so  much  a  part  of  her,  that  I  can  not 
resist — Miss  Pat  put  off  her  bonnet  without  fuss,  placed 
it  on  the  table  and  sat  down  in  a  window-seat  whence 
the  nearer  shore  of  the  lake  was  visible  across  the  strip 
of  smooth  lawn. 

"Father  Stoddard  thought  it  best  that  I  should  ex 
plain  the  necessity  that  brings  us  here/'  she  began; 
"but  the  place  is  so  quiet  that  it  seems  absurd  to  think 
that  our  troubles  could  follow  us." 

I  bowed.  The  idea  of  this  little  woman's  being  driven 
into  exile  by  any  sort  of  trouble  seemed  preposterous. 
She  drew  off  her  gloves  and  leaned  back  comfortably 
against  the  bright  pillows  of  the  window-seat.  "Watch 
the  hands  of  the  guest  in  the  tent/'  runs  the  Arabian 
proverb.  Miss  Pat's  hands  seemed  to  steal  appealingly 
out  of  her  snowy  cuffs ;  there  was  no  age  in  them.  The 
breeding  showed  there  as  truly  as  in  her  eyes  and  face. 
On  the  third  finger  of  her  left  hand  she  wore  a  singu- 


12  ROSALIND    AT    EED    GATE 

larly  fine  emerald,  set  in  an  oddly  carved  ring  of  Roman 
gold. 

"Will  you  please  close  the  door?"  she  said,  and  when 
I  came  back  to  the  window  she  began  at  once. 

"It  is  not  pleasant,  as  you  must  understand,  to  ex 
plain  to  a  stranger  an  intimate  and  painful  family  trou 
ble.  But  Father  Stoddard  advised  me  to  be  quite  frank 
with  you/' 

"That  is  the  best  way,  if  there  is  a  possibility  that  I 
may  be  of  service,"  I  said  in  the  gentlest  tone  I  could 
command.  "But  tell  me  no  more  than  you  wish.  I  am 
wholly  at  your  service  without  explanations." 

"It  is  in  reference  to  my  brother;  he  has  caused  me 
a  great  deal  of  trouble.  When  my  father  died  nearly 
ten  years  ago — he  lived  to  a  great  age — he  left  a  con 
siderable  estate,  a  large  fortune.  A  part  of  it  was  di 
vided  at  once  among  my  two  brothers  and  myself.  The 
remainder,  amounting  to  one  million  dollars,  was  left 
to  me,  with  the  stipulation  that  I  was  to  make  a  fur 
ther  division  between  my  brothers  at  the  end  of  ten 
years,  or  at  my  discretion.  I  was  older  than  my  brothers, 
much  older,  and  my  father  left  me  with  this  responsi 
bility,  not  knowing  what  it  would  lead  to.  Henry  and 
Arthur  succeeded  to  my  father's  business,  the  banking 


A   TELEGKAM  13 

firm  of  Holbrook  Brothers,  in  New  York.  The  bank 
continued  to  prosper  for  a  time;  then  it  collapsed  sud 
denly.  The  debts  were  all  paid,  but  Arthur  disappeared 
— there  were  unpleasant  rumors — " 

She  paused  a  moment,  and  looked  out  of  the  window 
toward  the  lake,  and  I  saw  her  clasped  hands  tighten; 
but  she  went  on  bravely. 

"That  was  seven  years  ago.  Since  then  Henry  has 
insisted  on  the  final  division  of  the  property.  My  father 
had  a  high  sense  of  honor  and  he  stipulated  that  if  either 
of  his  sons  should  be  guilty  of  any  dishonorable  act  he 
should  forfeit  his  half  of  the  million  dollars.  Henry 
insists  that  Arthur  has  forfeited  his  rights  and  that  the 
amount  withheld  should  be  paid  to  him  now;  but  his 
conduct  has  been  such  that  I  feel  I  should  serve  him 
ill  to  pay  him  so  large  a  sum  of  money.  Moreover,  I 
owe  something  to  his  daughter — to  Helen.  Owing  to 
her  father's  reckless  life  I  have  had  her  make  her  home 
with  me  for  several  years.  She  is  a  noble  girl,  and  very 
beautiful — you  must  have  seen,  Mr.  Donovan,  that  she 
is  an  unusually  beautiful  girl." 

"Yes/'  I  assented. 

"And  better  than  that,"  she  said  with  feeling,  "she 
is  a  very  lovely  character." 


14  ROSALIND   AT   EED    GATE 

I  nodded,  touched  to  see  how  completely  Helen  Hoi- 
brook  filled  and  satisfied  her  aunt's  life.  Miss  Pat  con 
tinued  her  story. 

"My  brother  first  sought  to  frighten  me  into  a  settle 
ment  by  menacing  my  own  peace;  and  now  he  includes 
Helen  in  his  animosity.  My  house  at  Stamford  was  set 
on  fire  a  month  ago ;  then  thieves  entered  it  and  I  was 
obliged  to  leave.  We  arranged  to  go  abroad,  but  when 
we  got  to  the  steamer  we  found  Henry  waiting  with  a 
threat  to  follow  us  if  I  did  not  accede  to  his  demands. 
It  was  Father  Stoddard  who  suggested  this  place,  and 
we  came  by  a  circuitous  route,  pausing  here  and  there 
to  see  whether  we  were  followed.  "We  were  in  the  Adi- 
rondacks  for  a  week,  then  we  went  into  Canada,  crossed 
the  lake  to  Cleveland  and  finally  came  on  here.  You 
can  imagine  how  distressing — how  wretched  all  this  has 
been." 

"Yes;  it  is  a  sad  story,  Miss  Holbrook.  But  you  are 
not  likely  to  be  molested  here.  You  have  a  lake  on  one 
side,  a  high  wall  shuts  off  the  road,  and  I  beg  you  to 
accept  me  as  your  near  neighbor  and  protector.  The 
servants  at  Mr.  Glenarm's  house  have  been  with  him  for 
several  years  and  are  undoubtedly  trustworthy.  It  is 
not  likely  that  your  brother  will  find  you  here,  but  if 


A   TELEGRAM  15 

he  should — we  will  deal  with  that  situation  when  the 
time  comes  I" 

"You  are  very  reassuring;  no  doubt  we  shall  not  need 
to  call  on  you.  And  I  hope  you  understand/'  she  contin 
ued  anxiously,  "that  it  is  not  to  keep  the  money  that  I 
wish  to  avoid  my  brother;  that  if  it  were  wise  to  make 
this  further  division  at  this  time  and  it  were  for  his 
good,  I  should  be  glad  to  give  him  all — every  penny 
of  it." 

"Pardon  me,  but  the  other  brother — he  has  not  made 
similar  demands — you  do  not  fear  him?"  I  inquired 
with  some  hesitation. 

"No — no !"  And  a  tremulous  smile  played  about  her 
lips.  "Poor  Arthur!  He  must  be  dead.  He  ran  away 
after  the  bank  failure  and  I  have  never  heard  from  him 
since.  He  and  Henry  were  very  unlike,  and  I  always 
felt  more  closely  attached  to  Arthur.  He  was  not  bril 
liant,  like  Henry ;  he  was  gentle  and  quiet  in  his  ways, 
and  father  was  often  impatient  with  him.  Henry  has 
been  very  bitter  toward  Arthur  and  has  appealed  to  me 
on  the  score  of  Arthur's  ill-doing.  It  took  all  his  own 
fortune,  he  says,  to  save  Arthur  and  the  family  name 
from  dishonor." 

She  was  remarkably  composed  throughout  this  recital, 


16  ROSALIND   AT   RED    GATE 

and  I  marveled  at  her  more  and  more.  Now,  after  a 
moment's  silence,  she  turned  to  me  with  a  smile. 

"We  have  been  annoyed  in  another  way.  It  is  so 
ridiculous  that  I  hesitate  to  tell  you  of  it — " 

"Pray  do  not — you  need  tell  me  nothing  more,  Miss 
Holbrook." 

"It  is  best  for  you  to  know.  My  niece  has  been  an 
noyed  the  past  year  by  the  attentions  of  a  young  man 
whom  she  greatly  dislikes  and  whose  persistence  dis 
tresses  her  very  much  indeed." 

"Well,  he  can  hardly  find  her  here;  and  if  he 
should—" 

Miss  Holbrook  folded  her  arms  upon  her  knees  and 
smiled,  bending  toward  me.  The  loveliness  of  her  hair, 
which  she  wore  parted  and  brushed  back  at  the  temples, 
struck  me  for  the  first  time.  The  brown — I  was  sure  it 
had  been  brown! — had  yielded  to  white — there  was  no 
gray  about  it ;  it  was  the  soft  white  of  summer  clouds. 

"Oh  I"  she  exclaimed ;  "he  isn't  a  violent  person,  Mr. 
Donovan.  He's  silly,  absurd,  idiotic !  You  need  fear  no 
violence  from  him." 

"And  of  course  your  niece  is  not  interested — he's  net 
a  fellow  to  appeal  to  her  imagination." 

"That  is  quite  true;  and  then  in  our  present  un- 


A   TELEGEAM  17 

happy  circumstances,,  with  her  father  hanging  over  her 
like  a  menace,  marriage  is  far  from  her  thoughts.  She 
feels  that  even  if  she  were  attached  to  a  man  and  wished 
to  marry,  she  could  not.  I  wish  she  did  not  feel  so;  I 
should  be  glad  to  see  her  married  and  settled  in  her  own 
home.  These  difficulties  can  not  last  always;  but  while 
they  continue  we  are  practically  exiles.  Helen  has  taken 
it  all  splendidly,  and  her  loyalty  to  me  is  beyond  any 
thing  I  could  ask.  It's  a  very  dreadful  thing,  as  you 
can  understand,  for  brother  and  sister  and  father  and 
child  to  be  arrayed  against  one  another." 

I  wished  to  guide  the  talk  into  cheerfuller  channels 
before  leaving.  Miss  Pat  seemed  amused  by  the  thought 
of  the  unwelcome  suitor,  and  I  determined  to  leave  her 
with  some  word  in  reference  to  him. 

"If  a  strange  knight  in  quest  of  a  lady  comes  riding 
through  the  wood,  how  shall  I  know  him  ?  What  valor 
ous  words  are  written  on  his  shield,  and  does  he  carry 
a  lance  or  a  suit-case  ?" 

"He  is  the  Knight  of  the  Sorrowful  Countenance," 
said  Miss  Holbrook  in  my  own  key,  as  she  rose.  "You 
would  know  him  anywhere  by  his  clothes  and  the  re 
markable  language  he  uses.  He  is  not  to  be  taken  very 
seriously — that's  the  trouble  with  him !  But  I  have  been 


18  ROSALIND    AT   RED    GATE 

afraid  that  he  and  my  brother  might  join  hands  in  the 
pursuit  of  us." 

"But  the  Sorrowful  Knight  would  not  advance  his 
interests  by  that — he  could  only  injure  his  cause!"  I 
exclaimed. 

"Oh,  he  has  no  subtlety;  he's  a  very  foolish  person; 
he  blunders  at  windmills  with  quixotic  ardor.  You  un 
derstand,  of  course,  that  our  troubles  are  not  known 
widely.  We  used  to  be  a  family  of  some  dignity," — and 
Miss  Patricia,  drew  herself  up  a  trifle  and  looked  me 
straight  in  the  eyes — "and  I  hope  still  for  happier 
years." 

"Won't  you  please  say  good  night  to  Miss  Holbrook 
for  me  ?"  I  said,  my  hand  on  the  door. 

And  then  an  odd  thing  happened.  I  was  about  to  take 
my  departure  through  the  front  hall  when  I  remembered 
a  short  cut  to  the  Glenarm  gate  from  the  rear  of  the 
school.  I  walked  the  length  of  the  parlor  to  a  door  that 
would,  I  knew,  give  ready  exit  to  the  open.  I  bowed  to 
Miss  Pat,  who  stood  erect,  serene,  adorable,  in  the  room 
that  was  now  touched  with  the  first  shadows  of  waning 
day,  and  her  slight  figure  was  so  eloquent  of  pathos,  her 
smile  so  brave,  that  I  bowed  again,  with  a  reverence  I 
already  felt  for  her. 


A   TELEGEAM  19 

Then  as  I  flung  the  door  open  and  stepped  into  the 
hall  I  heard  the  soft  swish  of  skirts,  a  light  furtive  step, 
and  caught  a  glimpse — or  could  have  sworn  I  did — of 
white.  There  was  only  one  Sister  in  the  house,  and  a 
few  servants;  it  seemed  incredible  that  they  could  be 
eavesdropping  upon  this  guest  of  the  house.  I  crossed 
a  narrow  hall,  found  the  rear  door,  and  passed  out  into 
the  park.  Something  prompted  me  to  turn  when  I  had 
taken  a  dozen  steps  toward  the  Glenarm  gate.  The  vines 
on  the  gray  stone  buildings  were  cool  to  the  eye  with 
their  green  that  hung  like  a  tapestry  from  eaves  to  earth. 
And  suddenly,  as  though  she  came  out  of  the  ivied  wall 
itself,  Helen  Holbrook  appeared  on  the  little  balcony 
opening  from  one  of  the  first-floor  rooms,  rested  the  tips 
of  her  fingers  on  the  green  vine-clasped  rail,  and,  seeing 
me,  bowed  and  smiled. 

She  was  gowned  in  white,  with  a  scarlet  ribbon  at 
her  throat,  and  the  green  wall  vividly  accented  and 
heightened  her  outline.  I  stood,  staring  like  a  fool  for 
what  seemed  a  century  of  heart-beats  as  she  flashed 
forth  there,  out  of  what  seemed  a  sheer  depth  of  ma 
sonry  ;  then  she  turned  her  head  slightly,  as  though  in 
disdain  of  me,  and  looked  off  toward  the  lake.  I  had 
uncovered  at  sight  of  her,  and  found,  when  I  gained 


20  ROSALIND    AT    RED    GATE 

the  broad  hall  at  Glenarm  House,  that  I  still  carried 
my  hat. 

An  hour  later,  as  I  dined  in  solitary  state,  that  white 
figure  was  still  present  before  me;  and  I  could  not 
help  wondering,  though  the  thought  angered  me, 
whether  that  graceful  head  had  been  bent  against  the 
closed  door  of  the  parlor  at  St.  Agatha's,  and  (if  such 
were  the  fact)  why  Helen  Holbrook,  who  clearly  en 
joyed  the  full  confidence  of  her  aunt,  should  have 
stooped  to  such  a  trick  to  learn  what  Miss  Patricia  said 
to  me. 


CHAPTER  II 

CONFIDENCES 

When  Spring  grows  old,  and  sleepy  winds 

Set  from  the  South  with  odors  sweet, 
I  see  my  love  in  green,  cool  groves, 

Speed  down  dusk  aisles  on  shining  feet. 

She  throws  a  kiss  and  bids  me  run, 

In  whispers  sweet  as  roses'  breath; 
I  know  I  can  not  win  the  race, 

And  at  the  end  I  know  is  death. 

O  race  of  love!  we  all  have  run 
Thy  happy  course  through  groves  of  spring, 

And  cared  not,  when  at  last  we  lost, 
For  life,  or  death,  or  anything! 

— Atalanta:  Maurice  Thompson. 

Miss  Patricia  received  me  the  following  afternoon  on 
the  lawn  at  St.  Agatha's  where,  in  a  cool  angle  of  the 
buildings,  a  maid  was  laying  the  cloth  on  a  small  table. 

"It  is  good  of  you  to  come.  Helen  will  be  here  pres 
ently.  She  went  for  a  walk  on  the  shore." 

"You  must  both  of  you  make  free  of  the  Glenarm 
preserve.  Don't  consider  the  wall  over  there  a  barricade ; 

21 


22  ROSALIND   AT   RED    GATE 

it's  merely  to  add  to  the  picturesqueness  of  the  land 
scape." 

Miss  Patricia  was  quite  rested  from  her  journey,  and 
expressed  her  pleasure  in  the  beauty  and  peace  of  the 
place  in  frank  and  cordial  terms.  And  to-day  I  sus 
pected,  what  later  I  fully  believed,  that  she  affected 
certain  old-fashioned  ways  in  a  purely  whimsical  spirit. 
Her  heart  was  young  enough,  but  she  liked  to  play  at 
being  old!  Sister  Theresa's  own  apartments  had  been 
placed  at  her  disposal,  and  the  house,  Miss  Patricia  de 
clared,  was  delightfully  cool. 

"I  could  ask  nothing  better  than  this.  Sister  Mar 
garet  is  most  kind  in  every  way.  Helen  and  I  have  had 
a  peaceful  twenty-four  hours — the  first  in  two  years — 
and  I  feel  that  at  last  we  have  found  safe  harborage." 

"Best  assured  of  it,  Miss  Holbrook!  The  summer 
colony  is  away  off  there  and  you  need  see.  nothing  of  it ; 
it  is  quite  out  of  sight  and  sound.  You  have  seen  An- 
nandale — the  sleepiest  of  American  villages,  with  a 
curio  shop  and  a  candy  and  soda-fountain  place  and  a 
picture  post-card  booth  which  the  young  ladies  of  St. 
Agatha's  patronize  extensively  when  they  are  here.  The 
summer  residents  are  just  beginning  to  arrive  on  their 
shore,  but  they  will  not  molest  you.  If  they  try  to  land 


CONFIDENCES  23 

over  here  we'll  train  our  guns  on  them  and  blow  them 
out  of  the  water.  As  your  neighbor  beyond  the  iron 
gate  of  Glenarm  I  beg  that  you  will  look  upon  me  as 
your  inan-at-arms.  My  sword,  Madam,  I  lay  at  your 
feet." 

"Sheathe  it,  Sir  Laurance ;  nor  draw  it  save  in  honor 
able  cause,"  she  returned  on  the  instant,  and  then  she 
was  grave  again. 

"Sister  Margaret  is  most  kind  in  every  way ;  she  seems 
wholly  discreet,  and  has  assured  me  of  her  interest  and 
sympathy,"  said  Miss  Patricia,  as  though  she  wished 
me  to  confirm  her  own  impression. 

"There's  no  manner  cf  doubt  of  it.  She  is  Sister 
Theresa's  assistant.  It  is  inconceivable  that  she  could 
possibly  interfere  in  your  affairs.  I  believe  you  are  per 
fectly  safe  here  in  every  way,  Miss  Holbrook.  If  at  the 
end  of  a  week  your  brother  has  made  no  sign,  we  shall 
be  reasonably  certain  that  he  has  lost  the  trail." 

"I  believe  that  is  true ;  and  I  thank  you  very  mucli." 

I  had  come  prepared  to  be  disillusioned,  to  find  her 
charm  gone,  but  her  small  figure  had  even  an  added  dis 
tinction;  her  ways,  her  manner  an  added  grace.  I 
found  myself  resisting  the  temptation  to  call  her  quaint, 
as  implying  too  much;  yet  I  felt  that  in  some  olden 


24:  EOSALIND   AT    EED    GATE 

time,  on  some  noble  estate  in  England,  or,  better,  in 
some  storied  colonial  mansion  in  Virginia,  she  must 
have  had  her  home  in  years  long  gone,  living  on  with 
no  increase  of  age  to  this  present.  She  was  her  own  law, 
I  judged,  in  the  matter  of  fashion.  I  observed  later  a 
certain  uniformity  in  the  cut  of  her  gowns,  as  though, 
at  some  period,  she  had  found  a  type  wholly  comfort 
able  and  to  her  liking  and  thereafter  had  clung  to  it. 
She  suggested  peace  and  gentleness  and  a  beautiful 
patience;  and  I  strove  to  say  amusing  things,  that  I 
might  enjoy  her  rare  luminous  smile  and  catch  her  eyes 
when  she  gave  me  her  direct  gaze  in  the  quick,  challeng 
ing  way  that  marked  her  as  a  woman  of  position  and  ex 
perience,  who  had  been  more  given  to  command  than  to 
obey. 

"Did  you  think  I  was  never  coming,  Aunt  Pat  ?  That 
shore-path  calls  for  more  strenuous  effort  than  I  im 
agined,  and  I  had  to  change  my  gown  again/' 

Helen  Holbrook  advanced  quickly  and  stood  by  her 
aunt's  chair,  nodding  to  me  smilingly,  and  while  we  ex 
changed  the  commonplaces  of  the  day,  she  caught  up 
Miss  Pat's  hand  and  held  it  a  moment  caressingly.  The 
maid  now  brought  the  tea,  Miss  Pat  poured  it  and  the 
talk  went  forward  cheerily. 


CONFIDENCES  25 

The  girl  was  in  white,  and  at  the  end  of  a  curved 
bench,  with  a  variety  of  colored  cushions  about  her  and 
the  bright  sward  and  tranquil  lake  beyond,  she  made  a 
picture  wholly  agreeable  to  my  eyes.  Her  hair  was  dead 
black,  and  I  saw  for  the  first  time  that  its  smooth  line 
on  her  brow  was  broken  by  one  of  those  curious,  rare 
little  points  called  widow's  peak.  They  are  not  com 
mon,  nor,  to  be  sure,  are  they  important ;  yet  it  seemed 
somehow  to  add  interest  to  her  graceful  pretty  head. 

It  was  quite  clear  in  a  moment  that  Helen  was  bent 
on  treating  me  rather  more  amiably  than  on  the  day  be 
fore,  while  at  the  same  time  showing  her  aunt  every 
deference.  I  was  relieved  to  find  them  both  able  to  pitch 
their  talk  in  a  light  key.  The  thought  of  sitting  daily 
and  drearily  discussing  their  troubles  with  two  exiled 
women  had  given  me  a  dark  moment  at  the  station  the 
day  before;  but  we  were  now  having  tea  in  the  cheer- 
fullest  fashion  in  the  world;  and,  as  for  their  difficul 
ties,  I  had  no  idea  whatever  that  they  would  be  molested 
so  long  as  they  remained  quietly  at  Annandale.  Miss 
Pat  and  her  niece  were  not  the  hysterical  sort ;  both  ap 
parently  enjoyed  sound  health,  and  they  were  not  the 
kind  of  women  who  see  ghosts  in  every  alcove  and  go  to 
bed  to  escape  the  lightning. 


26  ROSALIND    AT    EED    GATE 

"Oh,  Mr.  Donovan/'  said  Helen  Holbrook,  as  I  put 
down  her  cup,  "there  are  some  letters  I  should  like  to 
write  and  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  whether  it  is  safe 
to  have  letters  come  for  us  to  Annandale;  or  would  it 
be  better  to  send  nothing  from  here  at  all?  It  does 
seem  odd  to  have  to  ask  such  a  question — "  and  she  con 
cluded  in  a  tone  of  distress  and  looked  at  me  appeal- 
ingly. 

"We  must  take  no  risks  whatever,  Helen,"  remarked 
Miss  Pat  decisively. 

"Does  no  one  know  where  you  are?"  I  inquired  of 
Miss  Patricia. 

"My  lawyer,  in  New  York,  has  the  name  of  this  place, 
sealed ;  and  he  put  it  away  in  a  safety  box  and  promised 
not  to  open  it  unless  something  of  very  great  importance 
happened." 

"It  is  best  to  take  no  chances,"  I  said;  "so  I  should 
answer  your  question  in  the  negative,  Miss  Holbrook. 
In  the  course  of  a  few  weeks  everything  may  seem 
much  clearer ;  and  in  the  meantime  it  will  be  wiser  not 
to  communicate  with  the  outer  world." 

"They  deliver  mail  through  the  country  here,  don't 
they  ?"  asked  Helen.  "It  must  be  a  great  luxury  for  the 
farmers  to  have  the  post-office  at  their  very  doors." 


"  We  must  take  no  risks  whatever,  Helen."     Page  26 


CONFIDENCES  27 

"Yes,  but  the  school  and  Mr.  Glenarm  always  send 
for  their  own  mail  to  Annandale." 

"Our  mail  is  all  going  to  my  lawyer,"  said  Miss  Pat, 
"and  it  must  wait  until  we  can  have  it  sent  to  us  with 
out  danger." 

"Certainly,  Aunt  Pat,"  replied  Helen  readily.  "I 
didn't  mean  to  give  Mr.  Donovan  the  impression  that 
my  correspondence  was  enormous;  but  it  is  odd  to  be 
shut  up  in  this  way  and  not  to  be  able  to  do  as  one  likes 
in  such  little  matters." 

The  wind  blew  in  keenly  from  the  lake  as  the  sun 
declined  and  Helen  went  unasked  and  brought  an  India 
shawl  and  put  it  about  Miss  Pat's  shoulders.  The  girl's 
thoughtfulness  for  her  aunt's  comfort  pleased  me,  and 
I  found  myself  liking  her  better. 

It  was  time  for  me  to  leave  and  I  picked  up  my  hat 
and  stick.  As  I  started  away  I  was  aware  that  Helen 
Holbrook  detained  me  without  in  the  least  appearing  to 
do  so,  following  a  few  steps  to  gain,  as  she  said,  a  certain 
view  of  the  lake  that  was  particularly  charming. 

"There  is  nothing  rugged  in  this  landscape,  but  it  is 
delightful  in  its  very  tranquillity,"  she  said,  as  we 
loitered  on,  the  shimmering  lake  before  us,  the  wood  be 
hind  ablaze  with  the  splendor  of  the  sun.  She  spoke  of 


28  EOSALIND    AT    EED    GATE 

the  beauty  of  the  beeches,  which  are  of  noble  girth  in 
this  region,  and  paused  to  indicate  a  group  of  them 
whose  smooth  trunks  were  like  massive  pillars.  As  we 
looked  back  I  saw  that  Miss  Pat  had  gone  into  the 
house,  driven  no  doubt  by  the  persistency  of  the  west 
wind  that  crisped  the  lake.  Helen's  manner  changed 
abruptly,  and  she  said: 

"If  any  difficulty  should  arise  here,  if  my  poor  father 
should  find  out  where  we  are,  I  trust  that  you  may  be 
able  to  save  my  aunt  anxiety  and  pain.  That  is  what  I 
wished  to  say  to  you,  Mr.  Donovan." 

"Certainly,"  I  replied,  meeting  her  eyes,  and  noting 
a  quiver  of  the  lips  that  was  eloquent  of  deep  feeling 
and  loyalty.  She  continued  beside  me,  her  head  erect 
as  though  by  a  supreme  effort  of  self-control,  and  with 
I  knew  not  what  emotions  shaking  her  heart.  She  con 
tinued  silent  as  we  marched  on  and  I  felt  that  there 
was  the  least  defiance  in  her  air ;  then  she  drew  a  hand 
kerchief  from  her  sleeve,  touched  it  lightly  to  her  eyes, 
and  smiled. 

"I  had  not  thought  of  quite  following  you  home! 
Here  is  Glenarm  gate — and  there  lie  your  battlements 
and  towers." 

"Bather  they  belong  to  my  old  friend,  John  Glenarm. 


CONFIDENCES  29 

In  his  goodness  of  heart  he  gave  me  the  use  of  the  place 
for  the  summer;  and  as  generosity  with  another's  prop 
erty  is  very  easy,  I  hereby  tender  you  our  fleet — canoes, 
boats,  steam  launch — and  the  stable,  which  contains  a 
variety  of  traps  and  a  good  riding-horse  or  two.  They 
are  all  at  your  service.  I  hope  that  you  and  your  aunt 
will  not  fail  to  avail  yourselves  of  each  and  all.  Do  you 
ride?  I  was  specially  charged  to  give  the  horses  exer 
cise." 

"Thank  you  very  much/'  she  said.  "When  we  are 
well  settled,  and  feel  more  secure,  we  shall  be  glad  to 
call  on  you.  Father  Stoddard  certainly  served  us  well 
in  sending  us  to  you,  Mr.  Donovan/' 

In  a  moment  she  spoke  again,  quite  slowly,  and  with, 
I  thought,  a  very  pretty  embarrassment. 

"Aunt  Pat  may  have  spoken  of  another  difficulty — a 
mere  annoyance,  really,"  and  she  smiled  at  me  gravely. 

"Oh,  yes ;  of  the  youngster  who  has  been  troubling  you. 
Your  father  and  he  have,  of  course,  no  connection." 

"No;  decidedly  not.  But  he  is  a  very  offensive  per 
son,  Mr.  Donovan.  It  would  be  a  matter  of  great  dis 
tress  to  me  if  he  should  pursue  us  to  this  place." 

"It  is  inconceivable  that  a  gentleman — if  he  is  a  gen 
tleman — should  follow  you  merely  for  the  purpose  of 


30  ROSALIND    AT    RED    GATE 

annoying  you.  I  have  heard  that  young  ladies  usually 
know  how  to  get  rid  of  importunate  suitors." 

"I  have  heard  that  they  have  that  reputation/'  she 
laughed  back.  "But  Mr.  Gillespie— " 

"That's  the  name,  is  it  ?  Your  aunt  did  not  mention 
it." 

"Yes;  he  lives  quite  near  us  at  Stamford.  Aunt  Pat 
disliked  his  father  before  him,  and  now  that  he  is  dead 
she  visits  her  displeasure  on  the  son;  but  she  is  quite 
right  about  it.  He  is  a  singularly  unattractive  and  un 
interesting  person,  and  I  trust  that  he  will  not  find  us." 

"That  is  quite  unlikely.  You  will  do  well  to  forget 
all  about  him — forget  all  your  troubles  and  enjoy  the 
beauty  of  these  June  days." 

We  had  reached  Glenarm  gate,  and  St.  Agatha's  was 
now  hidden  by  the  foliage  along  the  winding  path.  I 
was  annoyed  to  realize  how  much  I  enjoyed  this  idling. 
I  felt  my  pulse  quicken  when  our  eyes  met.  Her  dark 
oval  face  was  beautiful  with  the  loveliness  of  noble 
Italian  women  I  had  seen  on  great  occasions  in  Rome. 
I  had  not  known  that  hair  could  be  so  black,  and  it  was 
fine  and  soft;  the  widow's  peak  was  as  sharply  defined 
on  her  smooth  forehead  as  though  done  with  crayon. 
Dark  women  should  always  wear  white,  I  reflected,  as 


CONFIDENCES  31 

she  paused  and  lifted  her  head  to  listen  to  the  chime  in 
the  tower  of  the  little  Gothic  chapel — a  miniature  affair 
that  stood  by  the  wall — a  chime  that  flung  its  melody  on 
the  soft  summer  air  like  a  handful  of  rose-leaves.  She 
picked  up  a  twig  and  broke  it  in  her  fingers ;  and  look 
ing  down  I  saw  that  she  wore  on  her  left  hand  an  emer 
ald  ring  identical  with  the  one  worn  by  her  aunt.  It 
was  so  like  that  I  should  have  believed  it  the  same,  had  I 
not  noted  Miss  Pat's  ring  but  a  few  minutes  before. 
Helen  threw  away  the  bits  of  twig  when  we  came  to  the 
wall,  and,  as  I  swung  the  gate  open,  paused  mockingly 
with  clasped  hands  and  peered  inside. 

"I  must  go  back/'  she  said.  Then,  her  manner  chang 
ing,  she  dropped  her  hands  at  her  side  and  faced  me. 

"You  will  warn  me,  Mr.  Donovan,  of  the  first  ap 
proach  of  trouble.  I  wish  to  save  my  aunt  in  every  way 
possible — she  means  so  much  to  me ;  she  has  made  life 
easy  for  me  where  it  would  have  been  hard." 

"There  will  be  no  trouble,  Miss  Holbrook.  You  are 
as  safe  as  though  you  were  hidden  in  a  cave  in  the 
Apennines;  but  I  shall  give  you  warning  at  the  first 
sign  of  danger." 

"My  father  is — is  quite  relentless,"  she  murmured, 
averting  her  eyes. 


32  ROSALIND   AT    EED    GATE 

I  turned  to  retrace  the  path  with  her;  but  she  for 
bade  me  and  was  gone  swiftly — a  flash  of  white  through 
the  trees — before  I  could  parley  with  her.  I  stared  after 
her  as  long  as  I  could  hear  her  light  tread  in  the  path. 
And  when  she  had  vanished  a  feeling  of  loneliness  pos 
sessed  me  and  the  country  quiet  mocked  me  with  its 
peace. 

I  clanged  the  Glenarm  gates  together  sharply  and 
went  in  to  dinner ;  but  I  pondered  long  as  I  smoked  on 
the  star-hung  terrace.  Through  the  wood  directly  be 
fore  me  I  saw  lights  flash  from  the  small  craft  of  the 
lake,  and  the  sharp  turn-turn  of  a  naphtha  launch  rang 
upon  the  summer  night.  Insects  made  a  blur  of  sound 
in  the  dark  and  the  chant  of  the  katydids  rose  and  fell 
monotonously. 

I  flung  away  a  half -smoked  cigar  and  lighted  my  pipe. 
There  was  no  disguising  the  truth  that  the  coming  of 
the  Holbrooks  had  got  on  my  nerves — at  least  that  was 
my  phrase  for  it.  Now  that  I  thought  of  it,  they  were 
impudent  intruders  and  Paul  Stoddard  had  gone  too 
far  in  turning  them  over  to  me.  There  was  nothing  in 
their  story,  anyhow ;  it  was  preposterous,  and  I  resolved 
to  let  them  severely  alone.  But  even  as  these  thoughts 
ran  through  my  mind  I  turned  toward  St.  Agatha's, 


CONFIDENCES  33 

whose  lights  were  visible  through  the  trees,  and  I  knew 
that  there  was  nothing  honest  in  my  impatience.  Helen 
Holbrook's  eyes  were  upon  me  and  her  voice  called  from 
the  dark ;  and  when  the  clock  chimed  nine  in  the  tower 
beyond  the  wall  memory  brought  back  the  graceful  turn 
of  her  dark  head,  the  firm  curve  of  her  throat  as  she  had 
listened  to  the  mellow  fling  of  the  bells. 

And  here,  for  the  better  instruction  of  those  friends 
who  amuse  themselves  with  the  idea  that  I  am  unusu 
ally  susceptible,  as  they  say,  to  the  charms  of  woman,  I 
beg  my  reader's  indulgence  while  I  state,  quite  honestly, 
the  flimsy  basis  of  this  charge.  Once,  in  my  twentieth, 
year,  while  I  was  still  an  undergraduate  at  Trinity, 
Dublin,  I  went  to  the  Killarney  Lakes  for  a  week's 
end.  My  host — a  fellow  student — had  taken  me  home  to 
see  his  horses;  but  it  was  not  his  stable,  but  his  blue- 
eyed  sister,  that  captivated  my  fancy.  I  had  not  known 
that  anything  could  be  so  beautiful  as  she  was,  and  I 
feel  and  shall  always  feel  that  it  was  greatly  to  my 
credit  that  I  fell  madly  in  love  with  her.  Our  affair  was 
fast  and  furious,  and  lamentably  detrimental  to  my 
standing  at  Trinity.  I  wrote  some  pretty  bad  verses  in 
her  praise,  and  I  am  not  in  the  least  ashamed  of  that 
weakness,  or  that  the  best  florist  in  Ireland  prospered  at 


34  ROSALIND    AT    RED    GATE 

the  expense  of  my  tailor  and  laundress.  It  lasted  a  year, 
and  to  say  that  it  was  like  a  beautiful  dream  is  merely 
to  betray  my  poor  command  of  language.  The  end,  too, 
was  fitting  enough,  and  not  without  its  compensations : 
I  kissed  her  one  night — she  will  not,  I  am  sure,  be 
grudge  me  the  confession ;  it  was  a  moonlight  night  in 
May;  and  thereafter  within  two  months  she  married  a 
Belfast  brewer's  son  who  could  not  have  rhymed  eyes 
with  skies  to  save  his  malted  soul. 

Embittered  by  this  experience  I  kept  out  of  trouble 
for  two  years,  and  my  next  affair  was  with  a  widow,  two 
years  my  senior,  whom  I  met  at  a  house  in  Scotland 
where  I  was  staying  for  the  shooting.  She  was  a  bit 
mournful,  and  lavender  became  her  well.  I  forgot  the 
grouse  after  my  first  day,  and  gave  myself  up  to  consol 
ing  her.  She  had,  as  no  other  woman  I  have  known  has 
had,  a  genius — it  was  nothing  less — for  graceful  atti 
tudes.  To  surprise  her  before  an  open  fire,  her  prettily 
curved  chin  resting  on  her  pink  little  palm,  her  eyes 
bright  with  lurking  tears,  and  to  see  her  lips  twitch 
with  the  effort  to  restrain  a  sob  when  one  came  sud 
denly  upon  her — but  the  picture  is  not  for  my  clumsy 
hand !  I  have  never  known  whether  she  suffered  me  to 
make  love  to  her  merely  as  a  distraction,  or  whether  she 


CONFIDENCES  35 

was  briefly  amused  by  my  ardor  and  entertained  by  the 
new  phrases  of  adoration  I  contrived  for  her.  I  loved 
her  quite  sincerely;  I  am  glad  to  have  experienced  the 
tumult  she  stirred  in  me — glad  that  the  folding  of  her 
little  hands  upon  her  knees,  as  she  bent  toward  the 
lighted  hearth  in  that  old  Scotch  manor,  and  her  low, 
murmuring,  mournful  voice,  made  my  heart  jump.  I 
told  her — and  recall  it  without  shame — that  her  eyes 
were  adorable  islands  aswim  in  brimming  seas,  and 
that  her  hands  were  fluttering  white  doves  of  peace.  I 
found  that  I  could  maintain  that  sort  of  thing  without 
much  trouble  for  an  hour  at  a  time. 

I  did  not  know  it  was  the  last  good-by  when  I  packed 
my  bags  and  gun-cases  and  left  one  frosty  morning.  I 
regret  nothing,  but  am  glad  it  all  happened  just  so. 
Her  marriage  to  a  clergyman  in  the  Establishment — a 
duke's  second  son  in  holy  orders  who  enjoyed  consider 
able  reputation  as  a  cricketer — followed  quickly,  and  I 
have  never  seen  her  since.  I  was  in  love  with  that  girl 
for  at  least  a  month.  It  did  me  no  harm,  and  I  think 
she  liked  it  herself. 

I  next  went  down  before  the  slang  of  an  American 
girl  with  teasing  eyes  and  amazing  skill  at  tennis,  whom 
I  met  at  Oxford  when  she  was  a  student  in  Lady  Mar- 


36  ROSALIND    AT    BED    GATE 

garet.  Her  name  was  Iris  and  she  was  possessed  by  the 
spirit  of  Mischief.  If  you  know  aught  of  the  English, 
you  know  that  the  average  peaches-and-cream  English 
girl  is  not,  to  put  it  squarely,  exciting.  Iris  understood 
this  perfectly  and  delighted  in  doing  things  no  girl  had 
ever  done  before  in  that  venerable  town.  She  lived  at 
home — her  family  had  taken  a  house  out  beyond  Mag 
dalen;  and  she  went  to  and  from  the  classic  halls  of 
Lady  Margaret  in  a  dog-cart,  sometimes  with  a  groom, 
sometimes  without.  When  alone  she  dashed  through 
the  High  at  a  gait  which  caused  sedate  matrons  to  stare 
and  sober-minded  fellows  of  the  university  to  swear, 
and  admiring  undergraduates  to  chuckle  with  delight. 
I  had  gone  to  Oxford  to  consult  a  certain  book  in  the 
Bodleian — a  day's  business  only;  but  it  fell  about  that 
in  the  post-office,  where  I  had  gone  on  an  errand,  I 
came  upon  Iris  struggling  for  a  cable-blank,  and  found 
one  for  her.  As  she  stood  at  the  receiving  counter,  im 
patiently  waiting  to  file  her  message,  she  remarked,  for 
the  benefit,  I  believed,  of  a  gaitered  bishop  at  her  el 
bow  :  "How  perfectly  rotten  this  place  is !" — and  winked 
at  me.  She  was  seventeen,  and  I  was  old  enough  to  know 
better,  but  we  had  some  talk,  and  the  next  day  she 
bowed  to  me  in  front  of  St.  Mary's  and,  the  day  after, 


CONFIDENCES  37 

picked  me  up  out  near  Keble  and  drove  me  all  over 
town,  and  past  Lady  Margaret,  and  dropped  me  quite 
boldly  at  the  door  of  the  Mitre.  Shameful!  It  was; 
but  at  the  end  of  a  week  I  knew  all  her  family,  includ 
ing  her  father,  who  was  bored  to  death,  and  her  mother, 
who  had  thought  it  a  fine  thing  to  move  from  Zanes- 
ville,  Ohio,  to  live  in  a  noble  old  academic  center  like 
Oxford — that  was  what  too  much  home-study  and  liter 
ary  club  had  done  for  her. 

Iris  kept  the  cables  hot  with  orders  for  clothes,  cara 
mels  and  shoes,  while  I  lingered  and  hung  upon  her 
lightest  slang  and  encouraged  her  in  the  idea  that  edu 
cation  in  her  case  was  a  sinful  waste  of  time;  and  I 
comforted  her  father  for  the  loss  of  his  native  buck 
wheat  cakes  and  consoled  her  mother,  who  found  that 
seven  of  the  perfect  English  servants  of  the  story-books 
did  less  than  the  three  she  had  maintained  at  Zanes- 
ville.  I  lingered  in  Oxford  two  months,  and  helped  them 
get  out  of  town  when  Iris  was  dropped  from  college  for 
telling  the  principal  that  the  Zanesville  High  School 
had  Lady  Margaret  over  the  ropes  for  general  educa 
tional  efficiency,  and  that,  moreover,  she  would  not  go 
to  the  Established  Church  because  the  litany  bored  her. 
Whereupon — their  dependence  on  me  having  steadily  in- 


38  ROSALIND   AT   BED    GATE 

creased — I  got  them  out  of  Oxford  and  over  to  Dresden, 
and  Iris  and  I  became  engaged.  Then  I  went  to  Ireland 
on  a  matter  of  business,  made  an  incendiary  speech  in 
Galway,  smashed  a  couple  of  policemen  and  landed  in 
jail.  Before  my  father,  with,  I  fear,  some  reluctance, 
bailed  me  out,  Iris  had  eloped  with  a  lieutenant  in  the 
German  army  and  her  family  had  gone  sadly  back  to 
Zanesville. 

This  is  the  truth,  and  the  whole  truth,  and  I  plead 
guilty  to  every  count  of  the  indictment.  Thereafter  my 
pulses  cooled  and  I  sought  the  peace  of  jungles;  and 
the  eyes  of  woman  charmed  me  no  more.  When  I 
landed  at  Annandale  and  opened  my  portfolio  to  write 
Russian  Rivers  my  last  affair  was  half  a  dozen  years  be 
hind  me. 

Sobered  by  these  reflections,  I  left  the  terrace  shortly 
after  eleven  and  walked  through  the  strip  of  wood  that 
lay  between  the  house  and  the  lake  to  the  Glenarm  pier ; 
and  at  once  matters  took  a  turn  that  put  the  love  of 
woman,  quite  out  of  the  reckoning. 


CHAPTEE  III 

I   MEET   MR.   REGINALD   GILLESPIE 

There  was  a  man  in  our  town, 

And  he  was  wondrous  wise, 
.He  jump'd  into  a  bramble-bush, 

And  scratch'd  out  both  his  eyes; 
But  when  he  saw  his  eyes  were  out, 

With  all  his  might  and  main 
He  jump'd  into  another  bush, 

And  scratch'd  them  in  again. 

— Old  Ballad. 

As  I  neared  the  boat-house  I  saw  a  dark  figure 
sprawled  on  the  veranda  and  my  Japanese  boy  spoke  to 
me  softly.  The  moon  was  at  full  and  I  drew  up  in  the 
shadow  of  the  house  and  waited.  Ijima  had  been  with 
me  for  several  years  and  was  a  boy  of  unusual  intelli 
gence.  He  spoke  both  English  and  French  admirably, 
was  deft  of  hand  and  wise  of  mind,  and  I  was  greatly 
attached  to  him.  His  courage,  fidelity  and  discretion 
I  had  tested  more  than  once.  He  lay  quite  still  on  the 
pier,  gazing  out  upon  the  lake,  and  I  knew  that  some 
thing  unusual  had  attracted  his  attention.  He  spoke  to 
me  in  a  moment,  but  without  turning  his  head. 

39 


40  ROSALIND   AT    RED    GATE 

"A  man  has  been  rowing  up  and  down  the  shore  for 
an  hour.  When  he  came  in  close  here  I  asked  him  what 
he  wanted  and  he  rowed  away  without  answering.  He 
is  now  off  there  by  the  school/' 

"Probably  a  summer  boarder  from  across  the  lake/' 

"Hardly,  sir.  He  came  from  the  direction  of  the  vil 
lage  and  acts  queerly." 

I  flung  myself  down  on  the  pier  and  crawled  out  to 
where  Ijima  lay.  Every  pier  on  the  lake  had  its  distinc 
tive  lights;  the  Glenarm  sea-mark  was — and  remains — 
red,  white  and  green.  We  lay  by  the  post  that  bore  the 
three  lanterns,  and  watched  the  slow  movement  of  a 
rowboat  along  the  margin  of  the  school  grounds.  The 
boat  was  about  a  thousand  yards  from  us  in  a  straight 
line,  though  farther  by  the  shore;  but  the  moonlight 
threw  the  oarsman  and  his  craft  into  sharp  relief  against 
the  overhanging  bank.  St.  Agatha's  maintains  a  boat- 
house  for  the  use  of  students,  and  the  pier  lights — red, 
white  and  red — lay  beyond  the  boatman,  and  he  seemed 
to  be  drawing  slowly  toward  them.  The  fussy  little 
steamers  that  run  the  errands  of  the  cottagers  had  made 
their  last  rounds  and  sought  their  berths  for  the  night, 
and  the  lake  lay  still  in  the  white  bath  of  light. 

"Drop  one  of  the  canoes  into  the  water,"  I  said ;  and 


I    MEET    GILLESPIE  41 

I  watched  the  prowling  boatman  while  Ijima  crept  back 
to  the  boat-house.  The  canoe  was  launched  silently  and 
the  boy  drove  it  out  to  me  with  a  few  light  strokes.  I 
took  the  paddle,  and  we  crept  close  along  the  shore  to 
ward  the  St.  Agatha  light.,  my  eyes  intent  on  the  boat, 
which  was  now  drawing  in  to  the  school  pier.  The 
prowler  was  feeling  his  way  carefully,  as  though  the 
region  were  unfamiliar;  but  he  now  landed  at  the  pier 
and  tied  his  boat.  I  hung  back  in  the  shadows  until  he 
had  disappeared  up  the  bank,  then  paddled  to  the  pier, 
told  Ijima  to  wait,  and  set  off  through  the  wood-path 
toward  St.  Agatha's. 

Where  the  wood  gave  way  to  the  broad  lawn  that 
stretched  up  to  the  school  buildings  I  caught  sight  of 
my  quarry.  He  was  strolling  along  under  the  beeches 
to  the  right  of  me,  and  I  paused  about  a  hundred  feet 
behind  him  to  watch  events.  He  was  a  young  fellow, 
not  above  average  height,  but  compactly  built,  and  stood 
with  his  hands  thrust  boyishly  in  his  pockets,  gazing 
about  with  frank  interest  in  his  surroundings.  He  was 
bareheaded  and  coatless,  and  his  shirt-sleeves  were 
rolled  to  the  elbow.  He  walked  slowly  along  the  edge  of 
the  wood,  looking  off  toward  the  school  buildings,  and 
while  his  manner  was  furtive  there  was,  too,  an  air  of 


4£  ROSALIND   AT    RED    GATE 

unconcern  about  him  and  I  heard  him  whistling  softly 
to  himself. 

He  now  withdrew  into  the  wood  and  started  off  with 
the  apparent  intention  of  gaining  a  view  of  St.  Agatha's 
from  the  front,,  and  I  followed.  He  seemed  harmless 
enough ;  he  might  be  a  curious  pilgrim  from  the  summer 
resort;  but  I  was  just  now  the  guardian  of  St.  Agatha's 
and  I  intended  to  learn  the  stranger's  business  before  I 
had  done  with  him.  He  swung  well  around  toward  the 
driveway,  threading  the  flower  garden,  but  hanging  al 
ways  close  under  the  trees,  and  the  mournful  whistle 
would  have  guided  me  had  not  the  moon  made  his  every 
movement  perfectly  clear.  He  reached  the  driveway 
leading  in  from  the  Annandale  road  without  having 
disclosed  any  purpose  other  than  that  of  viewing  the 
vine-clad  walls  with  a  tourist's  idle  interest.  The  situa 
tion  had  begun  to  bore  me,  when  the  school  gardener 
came  running  out  of  the  shrubbery,  and  instantly  the 
young  man  took  to  his  heels. 

"Stop  !  Stop  !"  yelled  the  gardener. 

The  mysterious  young  man  plunged  into  the  wood 
and  was  off  like  the  wind. 

"After  him,  Andy!  After  him!"  I  yelled  to  the 
Scotchman. 


I    MEET    GILLESPIE  43 

I  shouted  my  own  name  to  reassure  him  and  we  both 
went  thumping  through  the  beeches.  The  stranger 
would  undoubtedly  seek  to  get  back  to  his  boat,  I  rea 
soned,  but  he  was  now  headed  for  the  outer  wall,  and  as 
the  wood  was  free  of  underbrush  he  was  sprinting  away 
from  us  at  a  lively  gait.  Whoever  the  young  gentleman 
was,  he  had  no  intention  of  being  caught;  he  darted  in 
and  out  among  the  trees  with  astounding  lightness,  and 
I  saw  in  a  moment  that  he  was  slowly  turning  away  to 
the  right. 

"Kun  for  the  gate!"  I  called  to  the  gardener,  who 
was  about  twenty  feet  away  from  me,  blowing  hard.  I 
prepared  to  gain  on  the  turn  if  the  young  fellow  dashed 
for  the  lake ;  and  he  now  led  me  a  pretty  chase  through 
the  flower  garden.  He  ran  with  head  up  and  elbows 
close  at  his  sides,  and  his  light  boat  shoes  made  scarcely 
any  sound.  He  turned  once  and  looked  back  and,  find 
ing  that  I  was  alone,  began  amusing  himself  with  feints 
and  dodges,  for  no  other  purpose,  I  fancied,  than  to  per 
plex  or  wind  me.  There  was  a  little  summer-house  mid 
way  of  th*  garden,  and  he  led  me  round  this  till  my 
head  ewam.  By  this  time  I  had  grown  pretty  angry,  for 
a  foot-race  in  a  school  garden  struck  me  with  disgust  as 
a  childish  enterprise,  and  I  bent  with  new  spirit  and 


44  EOSALIND    AT    EED    GATE 

drove  him  away  from  his  giddy  circling  about  the  sum 
mer-house  and  beyond  the  only  gate  by  which  he  could 
regain  the  wood  and  meadow  that  lay  between  the  gar 
den  and  his  boat.  He  turned  his  head  from  side  to  side 
uneasily,  slackening  his  pace  to  study  the  bounds  of  the 
garden,  and  I  felt  myself  gaining. 

Ahead  of  us  lay  a  white  picket  fence  that  set  off  the 
vegetable  garden  and  marked  the  lawful  bounds  of  the 
school.  There  was  no  gate  and  I  felt  that  here  the  chase 
must  end,  and  I  rejoiced  to  find  myself  so  near  the 
runner  that  I  heard  the  quick,  soft  patter  of  his  shoes 
on  the  walk.  In  a  moment  I  was  quite  sure  that  I 
should  have  him  by  the  collar,  and  I  had  every  intention 
of  dealing  severely  with  him  for  the  hard  chase  he  had 
given  me. 

But  he  kept  on,  the  white  line  of  fence  clearly  out 
lined  beyond  him;  and  then  when  my  hand  was  almost 
upon  him  he  rose  at  the  fence,  as  though  sprung  from 
the  earth  itself,  and  hung  a  moment  sheer  above  the 
sharp  line  of  the  fence  pickets,  his  whole  figure  held 
almost  horizontal,  in  the  fashion  of  trained  high-jump 
ers,  for  what  seemed  an  infinite  time,  as  though  by  some 
witchery  of  the  moonlight. 

I  plunged  into  the  fence  with  a  force  that  knocked 


I    MEET    GILLESPIE  45 

the  wind  out  of  me  and  as  -I  clung  panting  to  the  pickets 
the  runner  dropped  with  a  crash  into  the  midst  of  a 
glass  vegetable  frame  on  the  farther  side.  He  turned 
his  head,  grinned  at  me  sheepishly  through  the  pickets, 
and  gave  a  kick  that  set  the  glass  to  tinkling.  Then  he 
held  up  his  hands  in  sign  of  surrender  and  I  saw  that 
they  were  cut  and  bleeding.  We  were  both  badly  blown, 
and  while  we  regained  our  wind  we  stared  at  each  other. 
He  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"Kicked,  bit  or  stung  I"  he  muttered  dolefully ;  "that 
saddest  of  all  words,  'stung  !'  It's  as  clear  as  moonlight 
that  I'm  badly  mussed,  not  to  say  cut." 

"May  I  trouble  you  not  to  kick  out  any  more  of  that 
glass  ?  The  gardener  will  be  here  in  a  minute  and  fish 
you  out." 

"Lawsy,  what  is  it?  An  aquarium,  that  you  fish 
for  me?" 

He  chuckled  softly,  but  sat  perfectly  quiet,  finding, 
it  seemed,  a  certain  humor  in  his  situation.  The 
gardener  came  running  up  and  swore  in  broad  Scots  at 
the  destruction  of  the  frame.  We  got  over  the  fence  and 
released  our  captive,  who  talked  to  himself  in  doleful 
undertones  as  we  hauled  him  to  his  feet  amid  a  renewed 
clink  of  glass. 


46  ROSALIND    AT   EED    GATE 

"Gently,  gentlemen;  behold  the  night-blooming 
cereus !  Not  all  the  court-plaster  in  the  universe  can 
glue  me  together  again/'  He  gazed  ruefully  at  his 
slashed  arms,  and  rubbed  his  legs.  "The  next  time  I 
seek  the  garden  at  dewy  eve  I'll  wear  my  tin  suit/' 

"There  won't  be  any  next  time  for  you.  What  did 
you  run  for?" 

"Trying  to  lower  my  record — it's  a  mania  with  me. 
And  as  one  good  question  deserves  another,  may  I  ask 
why  you  didn't  tell  me  there  was  a  glass-works  beyond 
that  fence?  It  wasn't  sportsmanlike  to  hide  a  murder 
ous  hazard  like  that.  But  I  cleared  those  pickets  with 
a  yard  to  spare,  and  broke  my  record." 

"You  broke  about  seven  yards  of  glass,"  I  replied. 
"It  may  sober  you  to  know  that  you  are  under  arrest. 
The  watchman  here  has  a  constable's  license." 

"He  also  has  hair  that  suggests  the  common  garden 
or  boiled  carrot.  The  tint  is  not  to  my  liking;  yet  it  is 
not  for  me  to  be  captious  where  the  Lord  has  hardened 
His  heart." 

"What  is  your  name  ?"  I  demanded. 

"Gillespie.  K.  Gillespie.  The  <B'  will  indicate  to 
you  the  depth  of  my  humility :  I  make  it  a  life  work  to 
hide  the  fact  that  I  was  baptized  Reginald." 


I    MEET    GILLESPIE  47 

"I've  been  expecting  you,  Mr.  Gillespie,  and  now  I 
want  you  to  come  over  to  my  house  and  give  an  account 
of  yourself.  I  will  take  charge  of  this  man,  Andy.  I 
promise  that  he  shan't  set  foot  here  again.  And,  Andy, 
you  need  mention  this  affair  to  no  one." 

"Very  good,  sir." 

He  touched  his  hat  respectfully. 

"I  have  business  with  this  person.  Say  nothing  to  the 
ladies  at  St.  Agatha's  about  him." 

He  saluted  and  departed ;  and  with  Gillespie  walking 
beside  me  I  started  for  the  boat-landing. 

He  had  wrapped  a  handkerchief  about  one  arm  and  I 
gave  him  my  own  for  the  other.  His  right  arm  was 
bleeding  freely  below  the  elbow  and  I  tied  it  up  for 
him. 

"That  jump  deserved  better  luck,"  I  volunteered,  as 
he  accepted  my  aid  in  silence. 

"I'm  proud  to  have  you  like  it.  Will  you  kindly  tell 
me  who  the  devil  you  are  ?" 

"My  name  is  Donovan." 

"I  don't  wholly  care  for  it,"  he  observed  mournfully. 
"Think  it  over  and  see  if  you  can't  do  better.  I'm  not 
sure  that  I'm  going  to  grow  fond  of  you.  What's  your 
business  with  me,  anyhow  ?" 


48  ROSALIND    AT   RED    GATE 

"My  business,  Mr.  Gillespie,  is  to  see  that  you  leave 
this  lake  by  the  first  and  fastest  train." 

"Is  it  possible  ?"  he  drawled  mockingly. 

"More  than  that/'  I  replied  in  his  own  key;  "it  is 
decidedly  probable/' 

"Meanwhile,  it  would  be  diverting  to  know  where 
you're  taking  me.  I  thought  the  other  chap  was  the 
constable/' 

"I'm  taking  you  to  the  house  of  a  friend  where  I'm 
visiting.  I'm  going  to  row  you  in  your  boat.  It's  only  a 
short  distance ;  and  when  we  get  there  I  shall  have  some 
thing  to  say  to  you." 

He  made  no  reply,  but  got  into  the  boat  without  ado. 
He  found  a  light  flannel  coat  and  I  flung  it  over  his 
shoulders  and  pulled  for  Glenarm  pier,  telling  the 
Japanese  boy  to  follow  with  the  canoe.  I  turned  over 
in  my  mind  the  few  items  of  information  that  I  had 
gained  from  Miss  Pat  and  her  niece  touching  the  young 
man  who  was  now  my  prisoner,  and  found  that  I  knew 
little  enough  about  him.  He  was  the  unwelcome  and  an 
noying  suitor  of  Miss  Helen  Holbrook,  and  I  had  caught 
him  prowling  about  St.  Agatha's  in  a  manner  that  was 
indefensible. 

He  sat  huddled  in  the  stern,  nursing  his  swathed  arms 


I   MEET    GILLESPIE  49 

on  his  knees  and  whistling  dolefully.  The  lake  was  a 
broad  pool  of  silver.  Save  for  the  soft  splash  of  Ijima's 
paddle  behind  me  and  the  slight  wash  of  water  on  the 
near  shore,  silence  possessed  the  world.  Gillespie  looked 
about  with  some  curiosity,  but  said  nothing,  and  when 
I  drove  the  boat  to  the  Glenarm  landing  he  crawled  out 
and  followed  me  through  the  wood  without  a  word. 

I  flashed  on  the  lights  in  the  library  and  after  a  short 
inspection  of  his  wounds  we  went  to  my  room  and  found 
sponges,  plasters  and  ointments  in  the  family  medicine 
chest  and  cared  for  his  injuries. 

"There's  no  honor  in  tumbling  into  a  greenhouse,  but 
such  is  K.  Gillespie's  luck.  My  shins  look  like  scarlet 
fever,  and  without  sound  legs  a  man's  better  dead." 

"Your  legs  seem  to  have  got  you  into  trouble;  don't 
mourn  the  loss  of  them !"  And  I  twisted  a  bandage  un 
der  his  left  knee-cap  where  the  glass  had  cut  savagely. 

"It's  my  poor  wits,  if  we  must  fix  the  blame.  It's  an 
awful  thing,  sir,  to  be  born  with  weak  intellectuals.  As 
maa's  legs  carry  him  on  orders  from  his  head,  there  lies 
the  seat  of  the  difficulty.  A  weak  mind,  obedient  legs, 
and  there  you  go,  plump  into  the  bosom  of  a  blooming 
asparagus  bed,  and  the  enemy  lays  violent  hands  on  you. 
If  you  put  any  more  of  that  sting-y  pudding  on  that  cut 


50  ROSALIND   AT    RED    GATE 

I  shall  undoubtedly  hit  you,  Mr.  Donovan.  Ah,  thank 
you,  thank  you  so  much !" 

As  I  finished  with  the  vaseline  he  lay  back  on  the 
couch  and  sighed  deeply  and  I  rose  and  sent  Ijima  away 
with  the  basin  and  towels. 

"Will  you  drink?  There  are  twelve  kinds  of 
whisky — " 

"My  dear  Mr.  Donovan,  the  thought  of  strong  drink 
saddens  me.  Such  poor  wits  as  mine  are  not  helped  by 
alcoholic  stimulants.  I  was  drunk  once — beautifully, 
marvelously,  nobly  drunk,  so  that  antiquity  came  up  to 
date  with  the  thud  of  a  motor-car  hitting  an  orphan 
asylum;  and  I  saw  Julius  CaBsar  driving  a  chariot  up 
Fifth  Avenue  and  Cromwell  poised  on  one  foot  on  the 
shorter  spire  of  St.  Patrick's  Cathedral.  Are  you  aware, 
my  dear  sir,  that  one  of  those  spires  is  shorter  than  the 
other?" 

"I  certainly  am  not,"  I  replied  bluntly,  wondering 
what  species  of  madman  I  had  on  my  hands. 

"It's  a  fact,  confided  to  me  by  a  prominent  engineer 
of  New  York,  who  has  studied  those  spires  daily  since 
they  were  put  up.  He  told  me  that  when  he  had  sur 
rounded  five  high-balls  the  north  spire  was  higher;  but 
that  the  sixth  tumblerful  always  raised  the  south  spire 


I    MEET    GILLESPIB  51 

about  eleven  feet  above  it.  Now,  wouldn't  that  doddle 
you?" 

"It  would.,  Mr.  Gillespie;  but  may  I  ask  you  to  cut 
out  this  rot — " 

"My  dear  Mr.  Donovan,  it's  indelicate  of  you  to  speak 
of  cutting  anything — and  me  with  my  legs.  But  I'm  at 
your  service.  You  have  tended  my  grievous  wounds  like 
a  gentleman  and  now  do  you  wish  me  to  unfold  my  past, 
present  and  future  ?" 

"I  want  you  to  get  out  of  this  and  be  quick  about  it. 
Your  biography  doesn't  amuse  me ;  I  caught  you  prowl 
ing  disgracefully  about  St.  Agatha's.  Two  ladies  are 
domiciled  there  who  came  here  to  escape  your  annoying 
attentions.  Those  ladies  were  put  in  my  charge  by  an 
old  friend,  and  I  don't  propose  to  stand  any  nonsense 
from  you,  Mr.  Gillespie.  You  seem  to  be  at  least  half 
sane — " 

Reginald  Gillespie  raised  himself  on  the  couch  and 
grinned  joyously. 

"Thank  you — thank  you  for  that  word!  That's  just 
twice  as  high  as  anybody  ever  rated  me  before." 

"I  was  trying  to  be  generous,"  I  said.  "There's  a 
point  at  which  I  begin  to  be  bored,  and  when  that's 
reached  I'm  likely  to  grow  quarrelsome.  Are  there  any 


52  ROSALIND   AT    RED    GATE 

moments  of  the  day  or  night  when  you  are  less  a  fool 
than  others  ?" 

"Well,  Donovan,  I've  often  speculated  about  that,  and 
my  conclusion  is  that  my  mind  is  at  its  best  when  Fm 
asleep  and  enjoying  a  nightmare.  I  find  the  Welsh 
rabbit  most  stimulating  to  my  thought  voltage.  Then  I 
am,  you  may  say,  detached  from  myself;  another  mind 
not  my  own  is  building  towers  and  palaces,  and  spiders 
as  large  as  the  far-famed  though  extinct  ichthyosaurus 
are  waltzing  on  the  moon.  Then,  I  have  sometimes 
thought,  my  intellectual  parts  are  most  intelligently  em 
ployed." 

"I  may  well  believe  you,"  I  declared  with  asperity. 
"Now  I  hope  I  can  pound  it  into  you  in  some  way  that 
your  presence  in  this  neighborhood  is  offensive — to  me — 
personally." 

He  stared  at  the  ceiling,  silent,  imperturbable. 

"And  I'm  going  to  give  you  safe  conduct  through  the 
lines — or  if  necessary  I'll  buy  your  ticket  and  start  you 
for  New  York.  And  if  there's  an  atom  of  honor  in  you, 
you'll  go  peaceably  and  not  publish,  the  fact  that  you 
know  the  whereabouts  of  these  ladies." 

He  reflected  gravely  for  a  moment. 

"I  think,"  he  said,  "that  on  the  whole  that's  a  fair 


I   MEET    GILLESPIE  33 

proposition.  But  you  seem  to  have  the  impression  that  I 
wish  to  annoy  these  ladies." 

"You  don't  for  a  moment  imagine  that  you  are  likely 
to  entertain  them,  do  you?  You  haven't  got  the  idea 
that  you  are  necessary  to  their  happiness,  have  you  ?" 

He  raised  himself  on  his  elbow  with  some  difficulty; 
flinched  as  he  tried  to  make  himself  comfortable  and 
began : 

"The  trouble  with  Miss  Pat  is—" 

"There  is  no  trouble  with  Miss  Pat/'  I  snapped. 

"The  trouble  between  Miss  Pat  and  me  is  the  same 
old  trouble  of  the  buttons/'  he  remarked  dolorously. 

"Buttons,  you  idiot?" 

"Quite  so.  Buttons,  just  plain  every-day  buttons; 
buttons  for  buttoning  purposes.  Now  I  shall  be  grateful 
to  you  if  you  will  refrain  from  saying 

"  'Button,  button, 
Who's  got  the  button?'  " 

The  fellow  was  undoubtedly  mad.  I  looked  about  for 
a  weapon ;  but  he  went  on  gravely. 

"What  does  the  name  Gillespie  mean  ?  Of  what  is  it 
the  sign  and  symbol  wherever  man  hides  his  nakedness  ? 
Button,  button,  who'll  buy  my  buttons  ?  It  can't  be  pos- 


54  KOSALIND   AT   RED    GATE 

sible  that  you  never  heard  of  the  Gillespie  buttons? 
Where  have  you  lived,  my  dear  sir  ?" 

"Will  you  please  stop  talking  rot  and  explain  what 
you  want  here  ?"  I  demanded  with  growing  heat. 

'That,  my  dear  sir,  is  exactly  what  I'm  doing.  I'm 
a  suitor  for  the  hand  of  Miss  Patricia's  niece.  Miss 
Patricia  scorns  me;  she  says  I'm  a  mere  child  of  the 
Philistine  rich  and  declines  an  alliance  without  thanks, 
if  you  must  know  the  truth.  And  it's  all  on  account  of 
the  fact,  shameful  enough  I  admit,  that  my  father  died 
and  left  me  a  large  and  prosperous  button  factory." 

"Why  don't  you  give  the  infernal  thing  away — sell  it 
out  to  a  trust — " 

"Ah !  ah  I" — and  he  raised  himself  again  and  pointed 
a  bandaged  hand  at  me.  "I  see  that  you  are  a  man  of 
penetration !  You  have  a  keen  notion  of  business !  You 
anticipate  me !  I  did  sell  the  infernal  thing  to  a  trust, 
but  there  was  no  shaking  it!  They  made  me  president 
of  the  combination,  and  I  control  more  buttons  than  any 
other  living  man!  My  dear  sir,  I  dictate  the  button 
prices  of  the  world.  I  can  tell  you  to  a  nicety  how  many 
buttons  are  swallowed  annually  by  the  babies  of  the  uni 
verse.  But  I  hope,  sir,  that  I  use  my  power  wisely  and 
without  oppressing  the  people." 


I    MEET    GILLESPIE  55 

Gillespie  lay  on  his  back,  wrapped  in  my  dressing- 
gown,  his  knees  raised,  his  bandaged  arms  folded  across 
his  chest.  Since  bringing  him  into  the  house  I  had 
studied  him  carefully  and,  I  must  confess,  with  in 
creasing  mystification.  He  was  splendidly  put  up,  the 
best-museled  man  I  had  ever  seen  who  was  not  a  pro 
fessional  athlete.  His  forearms  and  clean-shaven  face 
were  brown  from  prolonged  tanning  by  the  sun,  but 
otherwise  his  skin  was  the  pink  and  white  of  a  healthy 
baby.  His  short  light  hair  was  combed  smoothly  away 
from  a  broad  forehead;  his  blue  eyes  were  perfectly 
steady — they  even  invited  and  held  scrutiny;  when  he 
was  not  speaking  he  closed  his  lips  tightly.  He  appeared 
in  nowise  annoyed  by  his  predicament;  the  house  itself 
seemed  to  have  no  interest  for  him,  and  he  accepted  my 
ministrations  in  murmurs  of  well-bred  gratitude. 

I  half  believed  the  fellow  to  be  amusing  himself  at 
rny  expense;  but  he  met  my  eyes  calmly.  If  I  had  not 
caught  a  lunatic  I  had  certainly  captured  an  odd  speci 
men  of  humanity.  He  was  the  picture  of  wholesome 
living  and  sound  health ;  but  he  talked  like  a  fool.  The 
idea  of  a  young  woman  like  Helen  Holbrook  giving  two 
thoughts  to  a  silly  youngster  like  this  was  preposterous, 
and  my  heart  hardened  against  him. 


56  :  ROSALIND   AT    RED    GATE 

"You  are  flippant,  Mr.  Glllespie,  and  my  errand  with 
you  is  serious.  There  are  places  in  this  house  where  I 
could  lock  you  up  and  you  would  never  see  your  button 
factory  again.  You  seem  to  have  had  some  education — " 

"The  word  does  me  great  honor,  Donovan.  They 
chucked  me  from  Yale  in  my  junior  year.  Why,  you 
may  ask?  Well,  it  happened  this  way:  You  know 
Rooney,  the  Bellefontaine  Cyclone?  He  struck  New 
Haven  with  a  vaudeville  outfit,  giving  boxing  exhibi 
tions,  poking  the  bag  and  that  sort  of  fake.  At  every 
town  they  invited  the  local  sports  to  dig  up  their  bright 
est  amateur  middle-weight  and  put  him  against  the 
Cyclone  for  five  rounds.  I  brushed  my  hair  the  wrong 
way  for  a  disguise  and  went  against  him." 

"And  got  smashed  for  your  trouble,  I  hope/'  I  inter 
rupted. 

"No.  The  boys  in  the  gallery  cheered  so  that  they 
fussed  him,  and  he  thought  I  was  fruit.  We  shook 
hands,  and  he  turned  his  head  to  snarl  at  the  applause, 
and,  seeing  an  opening,  I  smashed  him  a  hot  clip  in  the 
chin,  and  he  tumbled  backward  and  broke  the  ring  rope. 
I  vaulted  the  orchestra  and  bolted,  and  when  the  boys 
finally  found  me  I  was  over  near  Waterbury  under  a 
barn.  Eli  wouldn't  stand  for  it,  and  back  I  went  to  the 


I    MEET    GILLESPIE  57 

button  factory ;  and  here  I  am,  sir,  by  the  grace  of  God, 
an  ignorant  man." 

He  lay  blinking  as  though  saddened  by  his  recollec 
tions,  and  I  turned  away  and  paced  the  floor.  When  I 
glanced  at  him  again  he  was  still  staring  soberly  at  the 
wall. 

"How  did  you  find  your  way  here,  Gillespie?"  I  de 
manded. 

"I  suppose  I  ought  to  explain  that,"  he  replied.  I 
waited  while  he  reflected  for  a  moment.  He  seemed  to 
be  quite  serious,  and  his  brows  wrinkled  as  he  pondered. 

"I  guessed  it  about  half;  and  for  the  rest,  I  followed 
the  heaven-kissing  stack  of  trunks." 

He  glanced  at  me  quickly,  as  though  anxious  to  see 
how  I  received  his  words. 

"Have  you  seen  anything  of  Henry  Holbrook  in  your 
travels  ?  Be  careful  now ;  I  want  the  truth." 

"I  certainly  have  not.  I  hope  you  don't  think — " 
Gillespie  hesitated. 

"It's  not  a  matter  for  thinking  or  guessing;  I've  got 
to  know." 

"On  my  honor  I  have  not  seen  him,  and  I  have  no 
idea  where  he  is." 

I  had  thrown  myself  into  a  chair  beside  the  couch  and 


58  ROSALIND   AT   RED    GATE 

lighted  my  pipe.  My  captive  troubled  me.  It  seemed 
odd  that  he  had  found  the  abiding-place  of  the  two 
women;  and  if  he  had  succeeded  so  quickly,  why  might 
not  Henry  Holbrook  have  equal  luck  ? 

"You  probably  know  this  troublesome  brother  well," 
I  ventured. 

( Tes ;  as  well  as  a  man  of  my  age  can  know  an  older 
man.  My  father's  place  at  Stamford  adjoined  the  Hol 
brook  estate.  Henry  and  Arthur  Holbrook  married 
sisters;  both  women  died  long  ago,  I  believe;  but  the 
brothers  had  a  business  row  and  went  to  smash.  Arthur 
embezzled,  forged,  and  so  on,  and  took  to  the  altitudi- 
nous  timber,  and  Henry  has  been  busy  ever  since  trying 
to  pluck  his  sister.  He's  wild  on  the  subject  of  his 
wrongs — ruined  by  his  own  brother,  deprived  of  his  in 
heritance  by  his  sister  and  abandoned  by  his  only  child. 
There  wasn't  much  to  Arthur  Holbrook ;  Henry  was  the 
genius,  but  after  the  bank  went  to  the  bad  he  sought  the 
consolations  of  rum.  He  and  Henry  married  the  Hart- 
ridge  twins  who  were  the  reigning  Baltimore  belles  in 
the  early  eighties — so  runneth  the  chronicle.  But  I  gos 
sip,  my  dear  sir;  I  gossip,  which  is  against  my  prin 
ciples.  Even  the  humble  button  king  of  Strawberry  Hill 
must  draw  the  line." 


I    MEET    GILLESP1E  59 

When  Ijima  brought  in  a  plate  of  sandwiches  he  took 
one  gingerly  in  his  swathed  hand,  regarded  it  with  cool 
inquiry,  and  as  he  munched  it,  remarked  upon  sand 
wiches  in  general  as  though  they  were  botanical  speci 
mens  that  were  usually  discussed  and  analyzed  in  a 
scientific  spirit. 

"The  sandwich/'  he  began,  "not  unhappily  expresses 
one  of  the  saddest  traits  of  our  American  life.  I  need 
hardly  refer  to  our  deplorable  national  habit  of  hiding 
our  shame  under  a  blithe  and  misleading  exterior.  Now 
this  article,  provided  by  your  generous  hospitality  for  a 
poor  prisoner  of  war,  contains  a  bit  of  the  breast  of  some 
fowl,  presumably  chicken — we  will  concede  that  it  is 
chicken — taken  from  rather  too  near  the  bone  to  be 
wholly  palatable.  Chicken  sandwiches  in  some  parts  of 
the  world  are  rather  coarsely  marked,  for  purposes  of 
identification,  with  pin-feathers.  You  may  covet  no  no 
bler  fame  than  that  of  creator  of  the  Flying  Sandwich 
of  Annandale.  Yet  the  feathered  sandwich,  though 
more  picturesque,  points  rather  too  directly  to  the  strut 
ting  lords  of  the  barn-yard.  A  sandwich  that  is  deco 
rated  like  a  fall  bonnet,  that  suggests,  we  will  say,  the 
milliner's  window — or  the  plumed  knights  of  sounding 


60  ROSALIND   AT    EED    GATE 

With  a  little  sigh,  a  slow  relaxation  of  muscles,  Mr. 
Gillespie  slept.  I  locked  the  doors,  put  out  the  lights, 
and  tumbled  into  my  own  bed  as  the  chapel  clock  chimed 
two. 

In  the  disturbed  affairs  of  the  night  the  blinds  had 
not  been  drawn,  and  I  woke  at  six  to  find  the  room 
flooded  with  light  and  my  prisoner  gone.  The  doors 
were  locked  as  I  had  left  them.  Mr.  Gillespie  had  de 
parted  by  the  window,  dropping  from  a  little  balcony  to 
the  terrace  beneath.  I  rang  for  Ijima  and  sent  him  to 
the  pier;  and  before  I  had  finished  shaving,  the  boy 
was  back,  and  reported  Gillespie's  boat  still  at  the  pier, 
but  one  of  the  canoes  missing.  It  was  clear  that  in 
the  sorry  plight  of  his  arms  Gillespie  ha.d  preferred 
paddling  to  rowing.  Beneath  my  watch  on  the  writing- 
table  I  found  a  sheet  of  note-paper  on  which  was 
scrawled : 


DEAR  OLD  MAN — I  am  having  one  of  those  nightmares  I 
mentioned  in  our  delightful  conversation.  I  feel  that  I  am 
about  to  walk  in  my  sleep.  As  my  flannels  are  a  trifle 
bluggy,  pardon  loss  of  your  dressing-gown.  Yours, 

R.  G. 

P.  S. — I  am  willing  to  pay  for  the  glass  and  medical  at 
tendance;  but  I  want  a  rebate  for  that  third  sandwich.  It 
really  tickled  too  harshly  as  it  went  down.  Very  likely  this 
accounts  for  my  somnambulism.  G. 


I    MEET    GILLESPIE  61 

When  I  had  dressed  and  had  my  coffee  I  locked  my 
old  portfolio  and  tossed  it  into  the  bottom  of  my  trunk. 
Something  told  me  that  for  a  while,  at  least,  I  should 
have  other  occupation  than  contributing  to  the  literature 
of  Eussian  geography. 


CHAPTER   IV 

I  EXPLORE  TIPPECANOE  CREEK 

The  woodland  silence,  one  time  stirred 
By  the  soft  pathos  of  some  passing  bird, 

Is  not  the  same  it  was  before. 
The  spot  where  once,  unseen,  a  flower 
Has  held  its  fragile  chalice  to  the  shower, 
Is  different  for  evermore. 
Unheard,  unseen 
A  spell  has  been! 

— Thomas  Bailey  Aldrich. 

My  first  care  was  to  find  the  gardener  of  St.  Agatha's 
and  renew  his  pledge  of  silence  of  the  night  before ;  and 
then  I  sought  the  ladies,  to  make  sure  that  they  had  not 
been  disturbed  by  my  collision  with  Gillespie.  Miss  Pat 
and  Helen  were  in  Sister  Theresa's  pretty  sitting-room, 
through  whose  windows  the  morning  wind  blew  fresh 
and  cool.  Miss  Pat  was  sewing — her  dear  hands,  I 
found,  were  always  busy — while  Helen  read  to  her. 

"This  is  a  day  for  the  open !  You  must  certainly  ven 
ture  forth!"  I  began  cheerily.  "You  see,  Father  Stod- 
dard  chose  well;  this  is  the  most  peaceful  place  on  the 

62 


TIPPECANOE    CREEK  63 

map.  Let  us  begin  with  a  drive  at  six,  when  the  sun  is 
low;  or  maybe  you  would  prefer  a  little  run  in  the 
launch." 

They  exchanged  glances. 

"I  think  it  would  be  all  right,  Aunt  Pat,"  said  Helen. 

"Perhaps  we  should  wait  another  day.  We  must  take 
no  chances;  the  relief  of  being  free  is  too  blessed  to 
throw  away.  I  really  slept  through  the  night — I  can't 
tell  you  what  a  boon  that  is !" 

"Why,  Sister  Margaret  had  to  call  us  both  at  eight  I" 
exclaimed  Helen.  "That  is  almost  too  wonderful  for 
belief."  She  sat  in  a.  low,  deep,  wicker  chair,  with  her 
arms  folded  upon  her  book.  She  wore  a  short  blue  skirt 
and  white  waist,  with  a  red  scarf  knotted  at  her  throat 
and  a  ribbon  of  like  color  in  her  hair. 

"Oh,  the  nights  here  are  tranquillity  itself!  Now,  as 
to  the  drive — " 

"Let  us  wait  another  day,  Mr.  Donovan.  I  feel  that 
we  must  make  assurance  doubly  sure,"  said  Miss  Pat; 
and  this,  of  course,  was  final. 

It  was  clear  that  the  capture  of  Gillespie  had  not  dis 
turbed  the  slumber  of  St.  Agatha's.  My  conscience 
pricked  me  a  trifle  at  leaving  them  so  ignorantly  con 
tented  ;  but  Gillespie's  appearance  was  hardly  a  menace, 


64  ROSALIND    AT    RED    GATE 

and  though  I  had  pledged  myself  to  warn  Helen  Hoi- 
brook  at  the  first  sign  of  trouble,  I  determined  to  deal 
with  him  on  my  own  account.  He  was  only  an  infatu 
ated  fool,  and  I  was  capable,  I  hoped,  of  disposing  of 
his  case  without  taking  any  one  into  my  confidence.  But 
first  it  was  my  urgent  business  to  find  him. 

I  got  out  the  launch  and  crossed  the  lake  to  the  sum 
mer  colony  and  began  my  search  by  asking  for  Gillespie 
at  the  casino,  but  found  that  his  name  was  unknown.  I 
lounged  about  until  lunch-time,  visited  the  golf  course 
that  lay  on  a  bit  of  upland  beyond  the  cotta,ges  and 
watched  the  players  until  satisfied  that  Gillespie  was  not 
among  them,  then  I  went  home  for  luncheon. 

A  man  with  bandaged  arms,  and  clad  in  a  dressing- 
gown,  can  not  go  far  without  attracting  attention;  and 
I  was  not  in  the  least  discouraged  by  my  fruitless 
search.  I  have  spent  a  considerable  part  of  my  life  in 
the  engaging  occupation  of  looking  for  men  who  were 
hard  to  find,  and  as  I  smoked  my  cigar  on  the  shady 
terrace  and  waited  for  Ijima  to  replenish  the  launch's 
tank,  I  felt  confident  that  before  night  I  should  have  an 
understanding  with  Gillespie  if  he  were  still  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Annandale. 

The  midday  was  warm,  but  I  cooled  my  eyes  on  the 


TIPPECA1STOE    CHEEK  65 

deep  shadows  of  the  wood,  through  which  at  intervals 
I  saw  white  sails  flash  on  the  lake.  All  bird-song  was 
hushed,  but  a  woodpecker  on  a  dead  sycamore  hammered 
away  for  dear  life.  The  bobbing  of  his  red  head  must 
have  exercised  some  hypnotic  spell,  for  I  slept  a  few 
minutes,  and  dreamed  that  the  woodpecker  had  bored  a 
hole  in  my  forehead.  When  I  roused  it  was  with  a  start 
that  sent  my  pipe  clattering  to  the  stone  terrace  floor. 
A  man  who  has  ever  camped  or  hunted  or  been  hunted — 
and  I  have  known  all  three  experiences — always  scru 
tinizes  the  horizons  when  he  wakes,  and  I  found  myself 
staring  into  the  wood.  As  my  eyes  sought  remembered 
landmarks  here  and  there,  I  saw  a  man  dressed  as  a 
common  sailor  skulking  toward  the  boat-house  several 
hundred  yards  away.  He  was  evidently  following  the 
school  wall  to  escape  observation,  and  I  rose  and  stepped 
closer  to  the  balustrade  to  watch  his  movements.  In  a 
moment  he  came  out  into  a  little  open  space  wherein 
stood  a  stone  tower  where  water  was  stored  for  the  house, 
and  he  paused  here  and  gazed  about  him  curiously.  I 
picked  up  a  field-glass  from  a  little  table  near  by  and 
caught  sight  of  a  swarthy  foreign  face  under  a  soft  felt 
hat.  He  passed  the  tower  and  walked  on  toward  the  lake, 
and  I  dropped  over  the  balustrade  and  followed  him. 


66  KOSALIKD    AT    EED    GATE 

The  Japanese  boy  was  still  at  work  on  the  launch, 
and,  hearing  a  step  on  the  pier  planking,  he  glanced  up, 
then  rose  and  asked  the  stranger  his  business. 

The  man  shook  his  head. 

"If  you  have  business  it  must  be  at  the  house;  the 
road  is  in  the  other  direction,"  and  Ijima  pointed  to  the 
wood,  but  the  stranger  remained  stubbornly  on  the  edge 
of  the  pier.  I  now  stepped  out  of  the  wood  and  walked 
down  to  the  pier. 

"What  do  you  want  here  ?"  I  demanded  sharply. 

The  man  touched  his  hat,  smiled,  and  shook  his  head. 
The  broad  hand  he  lifted  in  salute  was  that  of  a  laborer, 
and  its  brown  back  was  tattooed.  He  belonged,  I  judged, 
to  one  of  the  dark  Mediterranean  races,  and  I  tried  him 
in  Italian. 

"These  are  private  grounds ;  you  will  do  well  to  leave 
here  very  quickly,"  I  said. 

I  saw  his  eyes  light  as  I  spoke  the  words  slowly  and 
distinctly,  but  he  waited  until  I  had  finished,  then  shook 
his  head. 

I  was  sure  he  had  understood,  but  as  I  addressed  him 
again,  ordering  him  from  the  premises,  he  continued  to 
shake  his  head  and  grin  foolishly.  Then  I  pointed 
toward  the  road. 


TIPPECANOE    CREEK  67 

"Go;  and  it  will  be  best  for  you  not  to  come  here 
again!"  I  said,  and,  after  saluting,  he  walked  slowly 
away  into  the  wood,  with  a.  sort  of  dogged  insolence  in 
his  slightly  swaying  gait.  At  a  nod  from  me  Ijima  stole 
after  him  while  I  waited,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  boy 
came  back  and  reported  that  the  man  had  passed  the 
house  and  left  the  grounds  by  the  carriage  entrance, 
turning  toward  Annandale. 

With  my  mind  on  Gillespie  I  put  off  in  the  launch, 
determined  to  study  the  lake  geography.  A  mile  from 
the  pier  I  looked  back  and  saw,  rising  above  the  green 
wood,  the  gray  lines  of  Glenarm  house;  and  farther 
west  the  miniature  tower  of  the  little  chapel  of  St. 
Agatha's  thrust  itself  through  the  trees.  To  the  east 
lay  Annandale  village;  to  the  northwest  the  summer 
colony  of  Port  Annandale.  I  swung  the  boat  toward 
the  unknown  north  of  this  pretty  lake,  watching  mean 
while  its  social  marine — if  I  may  use  such  a  term — with 
new  interest.  Several  smart  sail-boats  lounged  before 
the  wind — more  ambitious  craft  than  I  imagined  these 
waters  boasted ;  the  lake  "tramps"  on  their  ceaseless  er 
rands  to  and  from  the  village  whistled  noisily ;  we  passed 
a  boy  and  girl  in  a  canoe — a  thing  so  pretty  and  graceful 
and  so  clean-cut  in  its  workmanship  that  I  turned  to 


68  EOSALIND    AT    BED    GATE 

look  after  it.  The  girl  was  lazily  plying  the  paddle;  the 
boy,  supported  by  a  wealth  of  gay  cushions,  was  thrum 
ming  a  guitar.  They  glared  at  me  resentfully  as  their 
cockle-shell  wobbled  in  the  wash  of  the  launch. 

"That's  a  better  canoe  than  we  own,  Ijima.  I  should 
like  to  pick  up  one  as  good." 

"There  are  others  like  it  on  the  lake.  Hartridge  is  the 
maker.  His  shop  is  over  there  somewhere/'  and  Ijima 
waved  his  hand  toward  the  north.  "A  boy  told  me  at  the 
Annandale  dock  that  those  canoes  are  famous  all  over 
this  country." 

"Then  we  must  certainly  have  one.  We  could  have 
used  one  of  those  things  in  Kussia." 

The  shores  grew  narrower  and  more  irregular  as  we 
proceeded,  and  we  saw  only  at  rare  intervals  any  signs 
of  life.  A  heavy  forest  lay  at  either  hand,  broken  now 
and  then  by  rough  meadows.  Just  beyond  a  sharp  curve 
a  new  vista  opened  before  us,  and  I  was  astonished  to 
see  a  small  wooded  island  ahead  of  us.  Beyond  it  lay  the 
second  lake,  linked  to  the  main  body  of  Annandale  by  a 
narrow  strait. 

"I  did  not  know  there  was  anything  so  good  on  the 
lake,  Ijima.  I  wonder  what  they  call  this  ?" 

He  reached  into  a  locker  and  drew  out  a  tin  tube. 


TIPPECAXOE    CREEK  69 

"This  is  a  map,  sir.  I  think  they  call  this  Battle 
Orchard." 

"That's  j.ot  bad,  either.  I  don't  see  the  orchard  or 
the  battle,  but  no  doubt  they  have  both  been  here."  I 
was  more  and  more  pleased. 

1  gave  him  the  wheel  and  took  the  map,  which  proved 
to  be  a  careful  chart  of  the  lake,  made,  I  judged,  by 
my  friend  Glenarm  for  his  own  amusement.  We  passed 
slowly  around  the  island,  which  was  not  more  than 
twenty  acres  in  extent,  with  an  abrupt  bank  on  the  east 
and  a  low  pebbly  shore  on  the  west,  and  a  body  of  heavy 
timber  rising  darkly  in  the  center.  The  shore  of  the 
mainland  sloped  upward  here  in  the  tender  green  of 
young  corn.  I  have,  I  hope,  a  soul  for  landscape,  and 
the  soft  bubble  of  water,  the  lush  reeds  in  the  shallows, 
the  rapidly  moving  panorama  of  field  and  forest,  the 
glimpses  of  wild  flowers,  and  the  arched  blue  above,  were 
restful  to  mind  and  heart.  It  seemed  shameful  that  the 
whole  world  was  not  afloat ;  then,  as  I  reflected  that  an 
other  boat  in  these  tranquil  waters  would  be  an  imperti 
nence  that  I  should  resent,  I  was  aware  that  I  had  been 
thinking  of  Helen  Holbrook  all  the  while;  and  the 
thought  of  this  irritated  me  so  that  I  criticized  Ijima 
most  unjustly  for  running  the  launch  close  to  a  boulder 


70  ROSALIND   AT   BED   GATE 

that  rose  like  a  miniature  Gibraltar  near  the  shadowy 
shore  we  were  skirting. 

We  gained  the  ultimate  line  of  the  lower  lake,  and 
followed  the  shore  in  search  of  its  outlet,  pleasingly  set 
down  on  the  map  as  Tippecanoe  Creek,  which  ran  off 
and  joined  somewhere  a  river  of  like  name. 

"We'll  cruise  here  a  bit  and  see  if  we  can  find  the 
creek,"  I  said,  filling  my  pipe. 

Tippecanoe !  Its  etymology  is  not  in  books,  but  goes 
back  to  the  first  star  that  ever  saw  itself  in  running 
water ;  its  cadence  is  that  of  a  boat  gliding  over  ripples ; 
its  syllables  flow  as  liquidly  as  a  woodland  spring  lin 
gering  in  delight  over  shining  pebbles.  The  canoe 
alone,  of  all  things  fashioned  to  carry  man,  has  a  soul — 
and  it  is  a  soul  at  once  obedient  and  perverse.  And  now 
that  I  had  discovered  the  name  Tippecanoe,  it  seemed 
to  murmur  itself  from  the  little  waves  we  sent  singing 
into  the  reeds.  My  delight  in  it  was  so  great,  it  rang  in 
my  head  so  insistently,  that  I  should  have  missed  the 
creek  with  the  golden  name  if  Ijima  had  not  called  my 
attention  to  its  gathering  current,  that  now  drew  us, 
like  a  tide.  The  lake's  waters  ran  away,  like  a  truant 
child,  through  a  woody  cleft,  and  in  a  moment  we  were 
as  clean  quit  of  the  lake  as  though  it  did  not  exist. 


TIPPECANOE    GREEK  71 

After  a  few  rods  the  creek  began  to  twist  and  turn  as 
though  with  the  intention  of  making  the  voyager  earn 
his  way.  In  the  narrow  channel  the  beat  of  our  engine 
rang  from  the  shores  rebukingly,  and  soon,  as  a  punish 
ment  for  disturbing  the  peace  of  the  little  stream,  we 
grounded  on  a  sand-bar. 

"This  seems  to  be  the  head  of  navigation,  Ijima. 
I  believe  this  creek  was  made  for  canoes,  not  battle 
ships." 

Between  us  we  got  the  launch  off,  and  I  landed  on  a 
convenient  log  and  crawled  up  the  bank  to  observe  the 
country.  I  followed  a  stake-and-rider  fence  half  hidden 
in  vines  of  various  sorts,  and  tramped  along  the  bank, 
with  the  creek  still  singing  its  tortuous  way  below  at  my 
right  hand.  It  was  late,  and  long  shadows  now  fell 
across  the  world;  but  every  new,  turn  in  the  creek 
tempted  me,  and  the  sharp  scratch  of  brambles  did  not 
deter  me  from  going  on.  Soon  the  rail  fence  gave  way 
to  barbed  wire ;  the  path  broadened  and  the  underbrush 
was  neatly  cut  away.  Within  lay  a  small  vegetable  gar 
den,  carefully  tilled ;  and  farther  on  I  saw  a  dark  green 
cottage  almost  shut  in  by  beeches.  The  path  dipped 
sharply  down  and  away  from  the  cottage,  and  a  moment 
later  I  had  lost  sight  of  it ;  but  below,  at  the  edge  of  the 


72  EOSALIND   AT   KED    GATE 

creek,  stood  a  long  house-boat  with  an  extended  plat 
form  or  deck  on  the  waterside. 

I  can  still  feel,  as  I  recall  the  day  and  hour,  the  utter 
peace  of  the  scene  when  first  I  came  upon  that  secluded 
spot :  the  melodious  flow  of  the  creek  beneath ;  the  flut 
ter  of  homing  wings;  even  the  hum  of  insects  in  the 
sweet,  thymy  air.  Then  a  step  farther  and  I  came  to  a 
gate  which  opened  on  a  flight  of  steps  that  led  to  the 
house  beneath;  and  through  the  intervening  tangle  I 
saw  a  man  sprawled  at  ease  in  a  steamer  chair  on  the 
deck,  his  arms  under  his  head.  As  I  watched  him  he 
sighed  and  turned  restlessly,  and  I  caught  a  glimpse  of 
close-trimmed  beard  and  short,  thin,  slightly  gray  hair. 

The  place  was  clearly  the  summer  home  of  a  city  man 
in  search  of  quiet,  and  I  was  turning  away,  when  sud 
denly  a  woman's  voice  rang  out  clearly  from  the  bank. 

"Hello  the  house-boat!" 

"Yes ;  I'm  here !"  answered  the  man  below. 

"Come  on,  father;  I've  been  looking  for  you  every 
where/'  called  the  voice  again. 

"Oh,  it's  too  bad  you've  been  waiting,"  he  answered. 

"Of  course  I've  been  waiting !"  she  flung  back,  and  he 
jumped  up  and  ran  toward  her.  Then  down  the  steps 
flashed  Helen  Holbrook  in  white.  She  paused  at  the 


TIPPECANOE    CREEK  73 

gate  an  instant  before  continuing  her  descent  to  the 
creek,  bending  her  head  as  she  sought  the  remaining 
steps.  Her  dark  hair  and  clear  profile  trembled  a  mo 
ment  in  the  summer  dusk;  then  she  ran  past  me  and 
disappeared  below. 

"Daddy,  you  dear  old  fraud,  I  thought  you  were 
coming  to  meet  me  on  the  ridge !" 

I  turned  and  groped  my  way  along  the  darkening 
path.  My  heart  was  thumping  wildly  and  my  forehead 
was  wet  with  perspiration. 

Ijima  stood  on  the  bank  lighting  his  lantern,  and  I 
flung  myself  into  the  launch  and  bade  him  run  for 
home. 

We  were  soon  crossing  the  lake.  I  lay  back  on  the 
cushions  and  gazed  up  at  the  bright  roof  of  stars.  Before 
I  reached  Glenarm  the  shock  of  finding  Helen  Holbrook 
in  friendly  communication  with  her  father  had  passed, 
and  I  sat  down  to  dinner  at  nine  o'clock  with  a  sound 
appetite. 


CHAPTER  V 

A  FIGHT  ON  A   HOUSE-BOAT 

The  best  composition  and  temperature  is,  to  have  open 
ness  in  fame  and  opinion,  secrecy  in  habit,  dissimulation  in 
seasonable  use,  and  a  power  to  feign,  if  there  be  no  remedy. 

— Francis  Bacon. 

At  ten  o'clock  I  called  for  a  horse  and  rode  out  into 
the  night,  turning  into  the  country  with  the  intention 
of  following  the  lake-road  to  the  region  I  had  explored 
in  the  launch  a  few  hours  before.  All  was  dark  at  St. 
Agatha's  as  I  passed.  No  doubt  Helen  Holbrook  had 
returned  in  due  course  from  her  visit  to  her  father  and, 
after  accounting  plausibly  to  her  aunt  for  her  absence, 
was  sleeping  the  sleep  of  the  just.  Now  that  I  thought 
of  the  matter  in  all  its  bearings,  I  accused  myself  for 
not  having  gone  directly  to  St.  Agatha's  from  the  lonely 
house  on  Tippecanoe  Creek  and  waited  for  her  there, 
demanding  an  explanation  of  her  perfidy.  She  was 
treating  Miss  Pat  infamously:  that  was  plain;  and  yet 
in  my  heart  I  was  excusing  and  defending  her.  A  family 

74 


ON   A   HOUSE-BOAT  75 

row  about  money  was  ugly  at  best;  and  an  unfortunate 
— even  criminal — father  may  still  have  some  claim  on 
his  child. 

Then,  as  against  such  reasoning,  the  vision  of  Miss 
Pat  rose  before  me — and  I  felt  whatever  chivalry  there 
is  in  me  arouse  with  a  rattle  of  spears.  Paul  Stoddard, 
in  committing  that  dear  old  gentlewoman  to  my  care, 
had  not  asked  me  to  fall  in  love  with  her  niece ;  so,  im 
patient  to  be  thus  swayed  between  two  inclinations,  I 
chirruped  to  the  horse  and  galloped  swiftly  over  the 
silent  white  road. 

I  had  learned  from  the  Glenarm  stable-boys  that  it 
was  several  miles  overland  to  the  Tippecanoe.  A  Sab 
bath  quiet  lay  upon  the  world,  and  I  seemed  to  be  the 
only  person  abroad.  I  rode  at  a  sharp  pace  through  the 
cool  air,  rushing  by  heavy  woodlands  and  broad  fields, 
with  an  occasional  farm-house  rising  somberly  in  the 
moonlight.  The  road  turned  gradually,  following  the 
line  of  the  lake  which  now  flashed  out  and  then  was 
lost  again  behind  the  forest.  There  is  nothing  like  a 
gallop  to  shake  the  nonsense  out  of  a  man,  and  my 
spirits  rose  as  the  miles  sped  by.  The  village  of  Tippe 
canoe  lay  off  somewhere  in  this  direction,  as  guide-posts 
several  times  gave  warning:  and  my  study  of  the  map 


76  KOSALIND   AT    BED    GATE 

on  the  launch  had  given  me  a  good  idea  of  the  whole 
region.  What  I  sought  was  the  front  entrance  of  the 
green  cottage  above  the  house-boat  by  the  creek,  and 
when,  far  beyond  Port  Annandale,  the  road  turned  ab 
ruptly  away  from  the  lake,  I  took  my  bearings  and 
dismounted  and  tied  my  horse  in  a  strip  of  unfenced 
woodland. 

The  whole  region  was  very  lonely,  and  now  that  the 
beat  of  hoofs  no  longer  rang  in  my  ears  the  quiet  was 
oppressive.  I  struck  through  the  wood  and  found  the 
creek,  and  the  path  beside  it.  The  little  stream  was  still 
murmuring  its  own  name  musically,  with  perhaps  a 
softer  note  in  deference  to  the  night;  and  following  the 
path  carefully  I  came  in  a  few  minutes  to  the  steps  that 
linked  the  cottage  with  the  house-boat  at  the  creek's 
edge.  It  was  just  there  that  I  had  seen  Helen  Hoi- 
brook,  and  I  stood  quite  still  recalling  this,  and  making 
sure  that  she  had  come  down  those  steps  in  that  quiet 
out-of-the-way  corner  of  the  world,  to  keep  tryst  with 
her  father.  The  story-and-a-half  cottage  was  covered 
with  vines  and  close-wrapped  in  shrubbery.  I  followed 
a  garden  walk  that  wound  among  bits  of  lawn  and 
flower-beds  until  I  came  to  a  tall  cedar  hedge  that  cut 
the  place  off  from  the  road.  A  semicircle  of  taller  pines 


ON    A    HOUSE-BOAT  77 

within  shut  the  cottage  off  completely  from  the  high 
way.  I  crawled  through  the  cedars  and  walked  along 
slowly  to  the  gate,  near  which  a  post  supported  a  sign 
board.  I  struck  a  match  and  read : 

RED  GATE 
-R.  Hartridge, 

Canoe-Maker, 

Tippecanoe,  Indiana. 

This,  then,  was  the  home  of  the  canoe-maker  men 
tioned  by  Ijima.  I  found  his  name  repeated  on  the  rural 
delivery  mail-box  affixed  to  the  sign-post.  Henry  Hoi- 
brook  was  probably  a  boarder  at  the  house — it  required 
no  great  deductive  powers  to  fathom  that.  I  stole  back 
through  the  hedge  and  down  to  the  house-boat.  The 
moon  was  coming  up  over  the  eastern  wood,  and  the 
stars  were  beautifully  clear.  I  walked  the  length  of 
the  platform,  which  was  provided  with  a  railing  on  the 
waterside,  with  growing  curiosity.  Several  canoes,  care 
fully  covered  with  tarpaulins,  lay  about  the  deck,  and 
chairs  were  drawn  up  close  to  the  long,  low  house  in  ship 
shape  fashion.  If  this  house-boat  was  the  canoe-maker's 
shop  he  had  chosen  a  secluded  and  picturesque  spot 
for  it. 

As  I  leaned  against  the  rail  studying  the  lines  of  the 


78  KOSALIND   AT   BED    GATE 

house,  I  heard  suddenly  the  creak  of  an  oar-lock  in 
the  stream  behind,  and  then  low  voices  talking.  The  deep 
night  silence  was  so  profound  that  any  sound  was  doubly 
emphasized,  and  I  peered  out  upon  the  water,  at  once 
alert  and  interested.  I  saw  a  dark  shadow  in  the  creek 
as  the  boat  drew  nearer,  and  heard  words  spoken  sharply 
as  though  in  command.  I  drew  back  against  the  house 
and  waited.  Possibly  the  canoe-maker  had  been  abroad, 
or  more  likely  Henry  Holbrook  had  gone  forth  upon 
some  mischief,  and  my  mind  flew  at  once  to  the  two 
women  at  St.  Agatha's,  one  of  whom  at  least  was  still 
under  my  protection.  The  boat  approached  furtively, 
and  I  heard  now  very  distinctly  words  spoken  in  Italian : 
"Have  a  care ;  climb  up  with  the  rope  and  I'll  follow." 
Then  the  boat  touched  the  platform  lightly  and  a 
second  later  a  man  climbed  nimbly  up  the  side.  His 
companion  followed,  and  they  tied  their  boat  to  the  rail 
ing.  They  paused  now  to  reconnoiter — so  close  to  me 
that  I  could  have  touched  them  with  my  hands — and 
engaged  in  a  colloquy.  The  taller  man  gave  directions, 
the  other  replying  in  monosyllables  to  show  that  he 
understood. 

"Go  to  the  side  porch  of  the  cottage,  and  knock. 
When  the  man  comes  to  the  door  tell  him  that  you  are 


ON   A    HOUSE-BOAT  79 

the  chauffeur  from  an  automobile  that  has  broken  down 
in  the  road,  and  that  you  want  help  for  a  woman  who 
has  been  hurt." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Then — you  know  the  rest." 

"The  knife— it  shall  be  done." 

I  have  made  it  the  rule  of  my  life,  against  much  pain 
ful  experience  and  the  admonitions  of  many  philoso 
phers,  to  act  first  and  reason  afterwards.  And  here  it 
was  a  case  of  two  to  one.  The  men  began  stealing  across 
the  deck  toward  the  steps  that  led  up  to  the  cottage,  and 
with  rather  more  zeal  than  judgment  I  took  a  step  after 
them,  and  clumsily  kicked  over  a  chair  that  fell  clatter 
ing  wildly.  Both  men  leaped  toward  the  rail  at  the 
sound,  and  I  flattened  myself  against  the  house  to  await 
developments.  The  silence  was  again  complete. 

"A  chair  blew  over,"  remarked  one  of  the  voices. 

"There  is  no  wind,"  replied  the  other,  the  one  I 
recognized  as  belonging  to  the  leader. 

"See  what  you  can  find — and  have  a  care !" 

The  speaker  went  to  the  rail  and  began  fumbling  with 
the  rope.  The  other,  I  realized,  was  slipping  quite 
noiselessly  along  the  smooth  planking  toward  me,  his 
bent  body  faintly  silhouetted  in  the  moonlight.  I  knew 


80  ROSALIND    AT    RED    GATE 

that  I  could  hardly  be  distinguishable  from  the  long  line 
of  the  house,  and  I  had  the  additional  advantage  of 
knowing  their  strength,  while  I  was  still  an  unknown 
quantity  to  them.  The  men  would  assume  that  I  was 
either  Hartridge,  the  boat-maker,  or  Henry  Holbrook, 
one  of  whom  they  had  come  to  kill,  and  there  is,  as  every 
one  knows,  little  honor  in  being  the  victim  of  mistaken 
identity.  I  heard  the  man's  hand  scratching  along  the 
wall  as  he  advanced  cautiously ;  there  was  no  doubt  but 
that  he  would  discover  me  in  another  moment ;  so  I  re 
solved  to  take  the  initiative  and  give  battle. 

My  finger-tips  touched  the  back  of  one  of  the  folded 
camp-chairs  that  rested  against  the  house,  and  I  slowly 
clasped  it.  I  saw  the  leader  still  standing  by  the  rail, 
the  rope  in  his  hand.  His  accomplice  was  so  close  that 
I  could  hear  his  quick  breathing,  and  something  in  his 
dimly  outlined  crouching  figure  was  familiar.  Then  it 
flashed  over  me  that  he  was  the  dark  sailor  I  had  ordered 
from  Glenarm  that  afternoon. 

He  was  now  within  arm's  length  of  me  and  I  jumped 
out,  swung  the  chair  high  and  brought  it  down  with  a 
crash  on  his  head.  The  force  of  the  blow"  carried  me 
forward  and  jerked  the  chair  out  of  my  grasp ;  and  down 
we  went  with  a  mighty  thump.  I  felt  the  Italian's  body 


ON   A    HOUSE-BOAT  81 

slip  and  twist  lithely  under  me  as  I  tried  to  clasp  his 
arms.  He  struggled  fiercely  to  free  himself,  and  I  felt 
the  point  of  a  knife  prick  my  left  wrist  sharply  as  I 
sought  to  hold  his  right  arm  to  the  deck.  His  muscles 
were  like  iron,  and  I  had  no  wish  to  let  him  clasp  me 
in  his  short  thick  arms ;  nor  did  the  idea  of  being  struck 
with  a  knife  cheer  me  greatly  in  that  first  moment  of 
the  fight. 

My  main  business  was  to  keep  free  of  the  knife.  He 
was  slowly  lifting  me  on  his  knees,  while  I  gripped  his 
arm  with  both  hands.  The  other  man  had  dropped  into 
the  boat  and  was  watching  us  across  the  rail. 

"Make  haste,  Giuseppe!"  he  called  impatiently,  and 
I  laughed  a  little,  either  at  his  confidence  in  the  outcome 
or  at  his  care  for  his  own  security ;  and  my  courage  rose 
to  find  that  I  had  only  one  to  reckon  with.  I  bent 
grimly  to  the  task  of  holding  the  Italian's  right  arm 
to  the  deck,  with  my  left  hand  on  his  shoulder  and  my 
right  fastened  to  his  wrist,  he  meanwhile  choking  me 
very  prettily  with  his  free  hand.  His  knees  were  slowly 
raising  me  and  crowding  me  higher  on  his  chest  and 
the  big  rough  hand  on  my  throat  tightened.  I  suddenly 
slipped  my  left  hand  down  to  where  my  right  gripped 
his  wrist  and  wrenched  it  sharply.  His  fingers  relaxed, 


83  ROSALIND   AT    RED    GATE 

and  when  I  repeated  the  twist  the  knife  rattled  on  the 
deck. 

I  broke  away  and  leaped  for  the  rail  with  some  idea 
of  jumping  into  the  creek  and  swimming  for  it;  and 
then  the  man  in  the  boat  let  go  twice  with  a  revolver,  the 
echoing  explosions  roaring  over  the  still  creek  with  the 
sound  of  saluting  battleships. 

"Hold  on  to  that  man — hold  him !"  he  shouted  from 
below.  I  heard  the  Italian  scraping  about  on  the  deck 
for  his  knife  as  I  dodged  round  the  house.  I  missed  the 
steps  in  the  dark  and  scrambled  for  them  wildly,  found 
them  and  was  dashing  for  the  path  before  the  last  echo 
of  the  shot  had  died  away  down  the  little  valley.  I 
was  satisfied  to  let  things  stand  as  they  were,  and  leave 
Henry  Holbrook  and  the  canoe-maker  to  defend  their 
own  lives  and  property.  Then,  when  I  was  about  mid 
way  of  the  steps,  a  man  plunged  down  from  the  garden 
and  had  me  by  the  collar  and  on  my  back  before  I  knew 
what  had  happened. 

There  was  an  instant's  silence  in  which  I  heard  angry 
voices  from  the  house-boat.  My  new  assailant  listened, 
too,  and  I  felt  his  grasp  on  me  tighten,  though  I  was 
well  winded  and  tame  enough. 

I  heard  the  boat  strike  the  platform  sharply  a?  the  seo 


ON   A    HOUSE-BOAT  83 

ond  man  jumped  into  it;  then  for  an  instant  silence 
again  held  the  valley. 

My  captor  seemed  to  dismiss  the  retreating  boat, 
and  poking  a  pistol  into  my  ribs  gave  me  his  attention. 

"Climb  up  these  steps,  and  do  as  I  tell  you.  If  you 
run,  I  will  shoot  you  like  a  dog." 

"There's  a  mistake — "  I  began  chokingly,  for  the 
Italian  had  almost  strangled  me  and  my  lungs  were  as 
empty  as  a  spent  bellows. 

"That  will  do.  Climb  I"  He  stuck  the  revolver  into 
my  back  and  up  I  went  and  through  the  garden  toward 
the  cottage.  A  door  opening  on  the  veranda  was  slightly 
ajar,  and  I  was  thrust  forward  none  too  gently  into  a 
lighted  room. 

My  captor  and  I  studied  each  other  attentively  for 
half  a  minute.  He  was  beyond  question  the  man  whom 
Helen  Holbrook  had  sought  at  the  house-boat  in  the 
summer  dusk.  Who  Hartridge  was  did  not  matter;  it 
was  evident  that  Holbrook  was  quite  at  home  in  the 
canoe-maker's  house,  and  that  he  had  no  intention  of 
calling  any  one  else  into  our  affairs.  He  had  undoubt 
edly  heard  the  revolver  shots  below  and  rushed  from  the 
cottage  to  investigate ;  and,  meeting  me  in  full  flight,  he 
had  naturally  taken  it  for  granted  that  I  was  involved  in 


84  ROSALIND    AT    EED    GATE 

some  designs  on  himself.  As  lie  leaned  against  a  table 
by  the  door  his  grave  blue  eyes  scrutinized  me  with 
mingled  indignation  and  interest.  He  wore  white  duck 
trousers  turned  up  over  tan  shoes,  and  a  gray  outing 
shirt  with  a  blue  scarf  knotted  under  its  soft  collar. 

I  seemed  to  puzzle  him,  and  his  gaze  swept  me  from 
head  to  foot  several  times  before  he  spoke.  Then  his  eyes 
flashed  angrily  and  he  took  a  step  toward  me. 

"Who  in  the  devil  are  you  and  what  do  you  want  ?" 

"My  name  is  Donovan,  and  I  don't  want  anything 
except  to  get  home." 

"Where  do  you  come  from  at  this  hour  of  the  night  ?" 

"I  am  spending  the  summer  at  Mr.  Glenarm's  place 
near  Annandale." 

"That's  rather  unlikely;  Mr.  Glenarm  is  abroad. 
What  were  you  doing  down  there  on  the  creek  ?" 

"I  wasn't  doing  anything  until  two  men  came  along 
to  kill  you  and  I  mixed  up  with  them  and  got  badly 
mussed  for  my  trouble." 

He  eyed  me  with  a  new  interest. 

"They  came  to  kill  me,  did  they?  You  tell  a  good 
story,  Mr.  Donovan." 

"Quite  so.  I  was  standing  on  the  deck  of  the  house 
boat  or  whatever  it  is — " 


ON   A   HOUSE-BOAT  85 

"Where  you  had  no  business  to  be — " 

"Granted.  I  had  no  business  to  be  there;  but  I  was 
there  and  came  near  getting  killed  for  my  impertinence, 
as  I  have  told  you.  Those  fellows  rowed  up  from  the 
direction  of  the  lake.  One  of  them  told  the  other  to 
call  you  to  your  door  on  the  pretense  of  summoning  aid 
for  a  broken  motor-car  off  there  in  the  road.  Then  he 
was  to  stab  you.  The  assassin  was  an  Italian.  His  em 
ployer  spoke  to  him  in  that  tongue.  I  happen  to  be  ac 
quainted  with  it." 

"You  are  a  very  accomplished  person/'  he  observed 
dryly. 

He  walked  up  to  me  and  felt  my  pockets. 

"Who  fired  that  pistol?" 

"The  man  in  charge  of  the  expedition.  The  Italian 
was  trying  to  knife  me  on  the  deck,  and  I  broke  away 
from  him  and  ran.  His  employer  had  gone  back  to  the 
boat  for  safety  and  he  took  a  crack  at  me  as  I  ran  across 
the  platform.  It's  not  the  fault  of  either  that  I'm  not 
quite  out  of  business." 

An  inner  door  back  of  me  creaked  slightly.  My  cap 
tor  swung  round  at  the  sound. 

"0  Rosalind!  It's  all  right.  A  gentleman  here  lost 
his  way  and  I'm  giving  him  his  bearings." 


86  ROSALIND   AT   RED   GATE 

The  door  closed  gently,  and  I  heard  the  sound  of 
steps  retreating  through  the  cottage.  I  noted  the  anxious 
look  in  Holbrook's  face  as  he  waited  for  the  sounds  to 
cease ;  then  lie  addressed  me  again. 

"Mr.  Donovan,  this  is  a  quiet  neighborhood,  and  I 
am  a  peaceable  man,  whose  worldly  goods  could  tempt 
no  one.  There  were  undoubtedly  others  besides  yourself 
down  there  at  the  creek,  for  one  man  couldn't  have  made 
all  that  row ;  but  as  you  are  the  one  I  caught  I  must  deal 
with  you.  But  you  have  protested  too  much ;  the  idea  of 
Italian  bandits  on  Tippecanoe  Creek  is  creditable  to 
your  imagination,  but  it  doesn't  appeal  to  my  common 
sense.  I  don't  know  about  your  being  a  guest  at  Glen- 
arm  House — even  that  is  flimsy.  A  guest  in  the  absence 
of  the  host  is  just  a  little  too  fanciful.  I'm  strongly 
disposed  to  take  you  to  the  calaboose  at  Tippecanoe 
village." 

Having  been  in  jail  several  times  in  different  parts 
of  the  world  I  was  not  anxious  to  add  to  my  experiences 
in  that  direction.  Moreover,  I  had  come  to  this  lonely 
house  on  the  Tippecanoe  to  gain  information  touching 
the  movements  of  Henry  Holbrook,  and  I  did  not  relish 
the  idea  of  being  thrown  into  a  country  jail  by  him.  I 
resolved  to  meet  the  situation  boldly. 


ON   A   HOUSE-BOAT  87 

"You  seem  to  accept  my  word  reluctantly,  even  after 
I  have  saved  you  from  being  struck  down  at  your  own 
door.  Now  I  will  be  frank  with  you.  I  had  a  purpose  in 
coming  here — " 

He  stepped  back  and  folded  his  arms. 

"Yes,  I  thought  so."  He  looked  about  uneasily,  be 
fore  his  eyes  met  mine.  His  hands  beat  nervously  on  his 
sleeves  as  he  waited,  and  I  resolved  to  bring  matters  to 
an  issue  by  speaking  his  name. 

"/  know  who  you  are,  Mr.  Holbro&k." 

His  hands  went  into  his  pockets  again,  and  he  stepped 
back  and  laughed. 

"You  are  a  remarkably  bad  guesser,  Mr.  Donovan. 
If  you  had  visited  me  by  daylight  instead  of  coming  like 
a  thief  at  midnight,  you  would  have  saved  yourself  much 
trouble.  My  name  is  disp^ed  over  the  outer  gate.  I 
am  Kobert  Hartridge,  a  canoe-maker/' 

He  spoke  the  name  carelessly,  his  manner  and  tone 
implying  that  there  could  be  no  debating  the  subject. 
I  was  prepared  for  evasion  but  not  for  this  cool  denial 
of  his.  identity. 

"But  this  afternoon,  Mr.  Holbrook,  I  chanced  to  fol 
low  the  creek  to  this  point  and  I  saw — " 

"You  probably  saw  that  house-boat  down  there,  that 


88  ROSALIND   AT    EED    GATE 

is  my  shop.  As  I  tell  you,  I  am  a  maker  of  canoes. 
They  have,  I  hope,  some  reputation — honest  hand-work ; 
and  my  output  is  limited.  I  shall  be  deeply  chagrined 
if  you  have  never  heard  of  the  Hartridge  canoe." 

He  shook  his  head  in  mock  grief,  walked  to  a  caba- 
rette  and  took  up  a  pipe  and  filled  it.  He  was  carrying 
off  the  situation  well;  but  his  coolness  angered  me. 

"Mr.  Hartridge,  I  am  sorry  that  I  must  believe  that 
heretofore  you  have  been  known  as  Holbrook.  The  fact 
was  clenched  for  me  this  afternoon,,  quite  late,  as  I  stood 
in  the  path  below  here.  I  heard  quite  distinctly  a  young 
woman  call  you  father." 

"So?  Then  you're  an  eavesdropper  as  well  as  a  tres 
passer  !" — and  the  man  laughed. 

"We  will  admit  that  I  am  both,"  I  flared  angrily. 

"You  are  considerate,  Mr.  Donovan !" 

"The  young  woman  who  called  you  father  and  whom 
you  answered  from  the  deck  of  the  house-boat  is  a  person 
I  know." 

'The  devil !" 

He  calmly  puffed  his  pipe,  holding  the  bowl  in  his 
fingers,  his  idle  hand  thrust  into  his  trousers  pocket. 

"It  was  Miss  Helen  Holbrook  that  I  saw  here,  Mr. 
Hartridge." 


ON   A    HOUSE-BOAT  89 

He  started,  then  recovered  himself  and  peered  into  the 
pipe  bowl  for  a  second;  then  looked  at  me  with  an 
amused  smile  on  his  face. 

"You  certainly  have  a  wonderful  imagination.  The 
person  you  saw,  if  you  saw  any  one  on  your  visit  to 
these  premises  to-day,  was  my  daughter,  Kosalind  Hart- 
ridge.  Where  do  you  think  you  knew  her,  Mr.  Dono 
van?" 

"I  saw  her  this  morning,  at  St.  Agatha's  School.  I 
not  only  saw  her,  but  I  talked  with  her,  and  I  am  neither 
deaf  nor  blind." 

He  pursed  his  lips  and  studied  me,  with  his  head 
slightly  tilted  to  one  side,  in  a  cool  fashion  that  I  did 
not  like. 

"Bather  an  odd  place  to  have  met  this  Miss — what 
name,  did  you  say? — Miss  Helen  Holbrook; — a  closed 
school-house,  and  that  sort  of  thing." 

"You  may  ease  your  mind  on  that  point;  she  was 
with  your  sister,  her  aunt,  Mr.  Holbrook;  and  I  want 
you  to  understand  that  your  following  Miss  Patricia 
Holbrook  here  is  infamous  and  that  I  have  no  other 
business  but  to  protect  her.from  you." 

He  bent  his  eyes  upon  me  gravely  and  nodded  several 
times. 


90  ROSALIND   AT    RED    GATE 

"Mr.  Donovan/'  he  began,  "I  repeat  that  I  am  not 
Henry  Holbrook,  and  my  daughter — is  my  daughter, 
and  not  your  Miss  Helen  Holbrook.  Moreover,  if  you 
will  go  to  Tippecanoe  or  to  Annandale  and  ask  about 
me  you  will  learn  that  I  have  long  been  a  resident  of 
this  community,  working  at  my  trade,  that  of  a  canoe- 
maker.  That  shop  down  there  by  the  creek  and  this 
house,  I  built  myself." 

"But  the  girl—" 

"Was  not  Helen  Holbrook,  but  my  daughter,  Rosa 
lind  Hartridge.  She  has  been  away  at  school,  and 
came  home  only  a  week  ago.  You  are  clearly  mistaken ; 
and  if  you  will  call,  as  you  undoubtedly  will,  on  your 
Miss  Holbrook  at  St.  Agatha's  in  the  morning,  you 
will  undoubtedly  find  your  young  lady  there  quite 
safely  in  charge  of — what  was  the  name,  Miss  Patricia 
Holbrook? — in  whose  behalf  you  take  so  praiseworthy 
an  interest." 

He  was  treating  me  quite  as  though  I  were  a  stupid 
school-boy,  but  I  rallied  sufficiently  to  demand : 

"If  you  are  so  peaceable  and  only  a  boat-maker  here, 
will  you  tell  me  why  you  have  enemies  who  are  so 
anxious  to  kill  you?  I  imagine  that  murder  isn't  com 
mon  on  the  quiet  shores  of  this  little  creek,  and  that  an 


ON  A   HOUSE-BOAT  91 

Italian  sailor  is  not  employed  to  kill  men  who  have  not 
a  past  of  some  sort  behind  them." 

His  brows  knit  and  the  jaw  under  his  short  beard 
tightened.  Then  he  smiled  and  threw  his  pipe  on  the 
cabarette. 

"I  have  only  your  word  for  it  that  there's  an  Italian 
in  the  wood-pile.  I  have  friends  among  the  country 
folk  here  and  in  the  lake  villages  who  can  vouch  for  me. 
As  I  am  not  in  the  least  interested  in  your  affairs  I 
shall  not  trouble  you  for  your  credentials;  but  as  the 
hour  is  late  and  I  hope  I  have  satisfied  you  that  we  have 
no  acquaintances  in  common,  I  will  bid  you  good  night. 
If  you  care  for  a  boat  to  carry  you  home — " 

"Thank  you,  no!"   I  jerked. 

He  bowed  with  slightly  exaggerated  courtesy,  walked 
to  the  door  and  threw  it  open.  He  spoke  of  the  beauty 
of  the  night  as  he  walked  by  my  side  through  the  garden 
pa.th  to  the  outer  gate.  He  asked  where  I  had  left  my 
horse,  wished  me  a  pleasant  ride  home,  and  I  was  strid 
ing  up  the  highway  in  no  agreeable  frame  of  mind  be 
fore  I  quite  realized  that  after  narrowly  escaping  death 
on  his  house-boat  at  the  hands  of  his  enemies,  Henry 
Holbrook  had  not  only  sent  me  away  as  ignorant  as  I 
had  come,  but  had  added  considerably  to  my  perplexities. 


CHAPTER  VI 
A  SUNDAY'S  MIXED  AFFAIRS 

Of  course,  in  company  with  the  rest  of  my  fellow-men,  I 
had  always  tied  the  sheet  in  a  sailing-boat;  but  in  so  little 
and  crank  a  concern  as  a  canoe,  and  with  these  charging 
squalls,  I  was  not  prepared  to  find  myself  follow  the  same 
principle;  and  it  inspired  me  with  some  contemptuous 
views  of  our  regard  for  life.  It  is  certainly  easier  to  smoke 
with  the  sheet  fastened;  but  I  had  never  before  weighed 
a  comfortable  pipe  of  tobacco  against  an  obvious  risk,  and 
gravely  elected  for  the  comfortable  pipe. 

— R.  L.  8.,  An  Inland  Voyage. 

The  faithful  Ijima  opened  the  door  of  Glenarm 
House,  and  after  I  had  swallowed  the  supper  he  always 
had  ready  for  me  when  I  kept  late  hours,  I  established 
myself  in  comfort  on  the  terrace  and  studied  the  affairs 
of  the  house  of  Holbrook  until  the  robins  rang  up  the 
dawn.  On  their  hint  I  went  to  bed  and  slept  until  Ijima 
came  in  at  ten  o'clock  with  my  coffee.  An  old  hymn 
chimed  by  the  chapel  bells  reminded  me  that  it  was 
Sunday.  Services  were  held  during  the  summer,  so 
the  house  servants  informed  me,  for  the  benefit  of  the 
cottagers  at  Port  Annandale;  and  walking  to  our  pier 

92 


MIXED    AFFAIES  93 

I  soon  saw  a  flotilla  of  launches  and  canoes  steering  for 
St.  Agatha's.  I  entered  the  school  grounds  by  the 
Grlenarm  gate  and  watched  several  smart  traps  approach 
by  the  lake  road,  depositing  other  devout  folk  at  the 
chapel. 

The  sight  of  bright  parasols  and  modish  gowns,  the 
semi-urban  Sunday  that  had  fallen  in  this  quiet  cor 
ner  of  the  world,  as  though  out  of  the  bright  blue 
above,  made  all  the  more  unreal  my  experiences  of  the 
night.  And  just  then  the  door  of  the  main  hall  of  St. 
Agatha's  opened,  and  forth  came  Miss  Pat,  Helen  Hoi- 
brook  and  Sister  Margaret  and  walked  toward  the 
chapel. 

It  was  Helen  who  greeted  me  first. 

"Aunt  Pat  can't  withstand  the  temptations  of  a  day 
like  this.  We're  chagrined  to  think  we  never  knew  this 
part  of  the  world  before  I" 

"I'm  sure  there  is  no  danger,"  said  Miss  Pat,  smiling 
at  her  own  timidity  as  she  gave  me  her  hand.  I  thought 
that  she  wished  to  speak  to  me  alone,  but  Helen  lin 
gered  at  her  side,  and  it  was  she  who  asked  the  question 
that  was  on  her  aunt's  lips. 

"We  are  undiscovered  ?  You  have  heard  nothing,  Mr. 
Donovan  ?" 


94  EOSALIND   AT   BED    GATE 

"Nothing,  Miss  Holbrook,"  I  said;  and  I  turned 
away  from  Miss  Pat — whose  eyes  made  lying  difficult — 
to  Helen,  who  met  my  gaze  with  charming  candor. 

And  I  took  account  of  the  girl  anew  as  I  walked  be 
tween  her  and  Miss  Pat,  through  a  trellised  lane  that 
alternated  crimson  ramblers  and  purple  clematis,  to 
the  chapel,  Sister  Margaret's  brown-robed  figure  pre 
ceding  us.  The  open  sky,  the  fresh  airs  of  morning,  the 
bird-song  and  the  smell  of  verdurous  earth  in  them 
selves  gave  Sabbath  benediction.  I  challenged  all  my 
senses  as  I  heard  Helen's  deep  voice  running  on  in  light 
banter  with  her  aunt.  It  was  not  possible  that  I  had 
seen  her  through  the  dusk  only  the  day  before,  traitor 
ously  meeting  her  father,  the  foe  of  this  dear  old  lady 
who  walked  beside  me.  It  was  an  impossible  thing; 
the  thought  was  unchivalrous  and  unworthy  of  any  man 
calling  himself  gentleman.  No  one  so  wholly  beautiful, 
no  one  with  her  voice,  her  steady  tranquil  eyes,  could, 
I  argued,  do  ill.  And  yet  I  had  seen  and  heard  her ;  I 
might  have  touched  her  as  she  crossed  my  path  and  ran 
down  to  the  house-boat ! 

She  wore  to-day  a  white  and  green  gown  and  trailed 
a  green  parasol  in  a  white-gloved  hand.  Her  small  round 
hat  with  its  sharply  upturned  brim  imparted  a  new 


MIXED    AFFAIRS  95 

frankness  to  her  face.  Several  times  she  looked  at  me 
quickly — she  was  almost  my  own  height — and  there  was 
no  questioning  the  perfect  honesty  of  her  splendid  eyes. 

"We  hoped  you  might  drop  in  yesterday  afternoon/' 
she  said,  and  my  ears  were  at  once  alert. 

"Yes,"  laughed  Miss  Pat,  "we  were—" 

"We  were  playing  chess,  and  almost  came  to  blows  I" 
said  Helen.  "We  played  from  tea  to  dinner,  and  Sister 
Margaret  really  had  to  come  and  tear  us  away  from  our 
game." 

I  had  now  learned,  as  though  by  her  own  intention, 
that  she  had  been  at  St.  Agatha's,  playing  a  harmless 
game  with  her  aunt,  at  the  very  moment  that  I  had  seen 
her  at  the  canoe-maker's.  And  even  more  conclusive  was 
the  fact  that  she  had  made  this  statement  before  her 
aunt,  and  that  Miss  Pat  had  acquiesced  in  it. 

We  had  reached  the  church  door,  and  I  had  really  in 
tended  entering  with  them ;  but  now  I  was  in  no  frame 
of  mind  for  church;  I  murmured  an  excuse  about  hav 
ing  letters  to  write. 

"But  this  afternoon  we  shall  go  for  a  ride  or  a  sail ; 
which  shall  it  be,  Miss  Holbrook?"  I  said,  turning  to 
Miss  Pat  in  the  church  porch. 

She  exchanged  glances  with  Helen,  before  replying. 


96  ROSALIND    AT    RED    GATE 

"As  you  please,  Mr.  Donovan.  It  might  be  that  we 
should  be  safer  on  the  water — " 

I  was  relieved.  On  the  lake  there  was  much  less  chance 
of  her  being  observed  by  Henry  Holbrook  than  in  the 
highways  about  Annandale.  It  was,  to  be  sure,  a  ques 
tion  whether  the  man  I  had  encountered  at  the  canoe- 
maker^s  was  really  her  brother;  that  question  was  still 
to  be  settled.  The  presence  of  Gillespie  I  had  forgot 
ten  utterly;  but  he  was,  at  any  rate,  the  least  impor 
tant  figure  in  the  little  drama  unfolding  before  me. 

"I  shall  come  to  your  pier  with  the  launch  at  five 
o'clock/'  I  said,  and  with  their  thanks  murmuring  in 
my  ears  I  turned  away,  went  home  and  called  for  my 
horse. 

I  repeated  my  journey  of  the  night  before,  making 
daylight  acquaintance  with  the  highway.  I  brought  my 
horse  to  a  walk  as  I  neared  the  canoe-maker's  cottage, 
and  I  read  his  sign  and  the  lettering  on  his  mail-box 
and  satisfied  myself  that  the  name  Hartridge  was  in 
disputably  set  forth  on  both.  The  cedar  hedge  and  the 
pines  before  the  house  shut  the  cottage  off  from  the 
curious  completely ;  but  I  saw  the  flutter  of  white  cur 
tains  in  the  open  gable  windows,  and  the  red  roof  agleam 
in  the  bright  sunlight.  There  was  no  one  in  sight ;  per- 


MIXED    AFFAIRS  97 

haps  the  adventure  and  warning  of  the  night  had  caused 
Holbrook  to  leave;  but  at  any  rate  I  was  bent  upon  ask 
ing  about  him  in  Tippecanoe  village. 

This  place,  lying  about  two  miles  beyond  the  canoe- 
maker^s,  I  found  to  be  a  sleepy  hamlet  of  perhaps  fifty 
cottages,  a  country  store,  a  post-office,  and  a  blacksmith 
shop.  There  was  a  water-trough  in  front  of  the  store, 
and  I  dismounted  to  give  my  horse  a  drink  while  I  went 
to  the  cottage  behind  the  closed  store  to  seek  the  shop 
keeper. 

I  found  him  in  a  garden  under  an  apple-tree  reading 
a  newspaper.  He  was  an  old  fellow  in  spectacles,  and, 
assuming  that  I  was  an  idler  from  the  summer  colony, 
he  greeted  me  courteously. 

He  confirmed  my  impression  that  the  crops  were  all 
in  first-rate  condition,  and  that  the  day  was  fine.  I  ques 
tioned  him  as  to  the  character  of  the  winters  in  this 
region,  spoke  of  the  employments  of  the  village  folk, 
then  mentioned  the  canoe-maker. 

"Yes ;  he  works  the  year  round  down  there  on  the  Tip 
pecanoe.  He  sells  his  canoes  all  over  the  country — the 
Hartridge,  that's  his  name.  You  must  have  seen  his 
sign  there  by  the  cedar  hedge.  They  say  he  gets  big 
prices  for  his  canoes.55 


98  KOSALIND   AT   EED    GATE 

"I  suppose  he's  a  native  in  these  parts  ?"  I  ventured. 

efNo ;  but  he's  been  here  a  good  while.  I  guess  nobody 
knows  where  he  comes  from — or  cares.  He  works  pretty 
hard,  but  I  guess  he  likes  it" 

"He's  an  industrious  man,  is  he?" 

"Oh,  he's  a  steady  worker;  but  he's  a  queer  kind,  too. 
Now  he  never  votes  and  he  never  goes  to  church ;  and 
for  the  sake  of  the  argument,  neither  do  I," — and  the 
old  fellow  winked  prodigiously.  "He's  a  mighty  odd 
man;  but  I  can't  say  that  that's  against  him.  But  he's 
quiet  and  peaceable,  and  now  his  daughter — " 

"Oh,  he  has  a  daughter  ?" 

"Yes ;  and  that's  all  he  has,  too ;  and  they  never  have 
any  visitors.  The  daughter  just  come  home  the  other 
day,  and  we  ain't  hardly  seen  her  yet.  She's  been  away 
at  school." 

"I  suppose  Mr.  Hartridge  is  absent  sometimes;  he 
doesn't  live  down  there  all  the  time,  does  he  ?" 

"I  can't  say  that  I  could  prove  it;  sometimes  I  don't 
see  him  for  a  month  or  more;  but  his  business  is  his 
own,  stranger,"  he  concluded  pointedly. 

"You  think  that  if  Mr.  Hartridge  had  a  visitor  you'd 
know  it?"  I  persisted,  though  the  shopkeeper  grew  less 
amiable. 


MIXED    AFFAIRS  99 

"Well,  now  I  might ;  and  again  I  mightn't.  Mr.  Hart- 
ridge  is  a  queer  man.  I  don't  see  him  every  day,  and 
particularly  in  the  winter  I  don't  keep  track  of  him." 

With  a  little  leading  the  storekeeper  described  Hart- 
ridge  for  me,  and  his  description  tallied  exactly  with 
the  man  who  had  caught  me  on  the  canoe-maker's  prem 
ises  the  night  before.  And  yet,  when  I  had  thanked  the 
storekeeper  and  ridden  on  through  the  village,  I  was  as 
much  befuddled  as  ever.  There  was  something  decidedly 
incongruous  in  the  idea  that  a  man  who  was,  by  all 
superficial  signs,  at  least,  a  gentleman,  should  be  estab 
lished  in  the  business  of  making  canoes  by  the  side  of  a 
lonely  creek  in  this  odd  corner  of  the  world.  From  the 
storekeeper's  account,  Hartridge  might  be  absent  from 
his  retreat  for  long  periods ;  if  he  were  Henry  Holbrook 
and  wished  to  annoy  his  sister,  it  was  not  so  far  from 
this  lonely  creek  to  the  Connecticut  town  where  Miss 
Pat  lived.  Again,  as  to  the  daughter,  just  home  from 
school  and  not  yet  familiar  to  the  eyes  of  the  village, 
she  might  easily  enough  be  an  invention  to  hide  the 
visits  of  Helen  Holbrook.  I  found  myself  trying  to  ac 
count  for  the  fact  that,  by  some  means  short  of  the 
miraculous,  Helen  Holbrook  had  played  chess  with  Miss 
Pat  at  St.  Agatha's  at  the  very  hour  I  had  seen  her  with 


100  KOSALIND    AT    RED    GATE 

her  father  on  the  Tippecanoe.  And  then  I  was  baffled 
again  as  I  remembered  that  Paul  Stoddard  had  sent  the 
two  women  to  St.  Agatha's,  and  that  their  destination 
could  not  have  been  chosen  by  Helen  Holbrook. 

My  thoughts  wandered  into  many  blind  alleys  as  I 
rode  on.  I  was  thoroughly  disgusted  with  myself  at 
finding  the  loose  ends  of  the  Holbrooks'  affairs  multiply 
ing  so  rapidly.  The  sun  of  noon  shone  hot  overhead, 
and  I  turned  my  horse  into  a  road  that  led  homeward 
by  the  eastern  shore  of  the  lake.  As  I  approached  a 
little  country  church  at  the  crown  of  a  long  hill  I  saw 
a  crowd  gathered  in  the  highway  and  reined  my  horse  to 
see  what  had  happened.  The  congregation  of  farmers 
and  their  families  had  just  been  dismissed;  and  they 
were  pressing  about  a  young  man  who  stood  in  the  cen 
ter  of  an  excited  throng.  Drawing  closer,  I  was  amazed 
to  find  my  friend  Gillespie  the  center  of  attention. 

<cBut,  my  dear  sir,"  cried  a  tall,  bearded  man  whom 
I  took  to  be  the  minister  of  this  wayside  flock,  "you 
must  at  least  give  us  the  privilege  of  thanking  you! 
You  can  not  know  what  this  means  to  us,  a  gift  so 
munificent — so  far  beyond  our  dreams." 

Whereat  Gillespie,  looking  bored,  shook  his  head,  and 
tried  to  force  his  way  through  the  encircling  rustics. 


MIXED    AFFAIRS  101 

He  was  clad  in  a  Norfolk  jacket  and  knickerbockers  of 
fantastic  plaid,  with  a  cap  to  match. 

A  young  farmer,  noting  my  curiosity  and  heavy  with 
great  news,  whispered  to  me : 

"That  boy  in  short  pants  put  a  thousand-dollar  bill 
in  the  collection  basket.  All  in  one  bill !  They  thought 
it  was  a  mistake,  but  he  told  our  preacher  it  was  a  free 
gift." 

Just  then  I  heard  the  voice  of  my  fool  raised  so  that 
all  might  hear : 

"Friends,  on  the  dusty  highway  of  life  I  can  take  none 
of  the  honor  or  credit  you  so  kindly  offer  me.  The 
money  I  have  given  you  to-day  I  came  by  honestly. 
I  stepped  into  your  cool  and  restful  house  of  worship 
this  morning  in  search  of  bodily  ease.  The  small  voice 
of  conscience  stirred  within  me.  I  had  not  been  inside 
a  church  for  two  years,  and  I  was  greatly  shaken.  But 
as  I  listened  to  your  eloquent  pastor  I  was  aware  that 
the  green  wall-paper  interrupted  my  soul  currents.  That 
vegetable-green  tint  is  notorious  as  a  psychical  intercep 
tor.  Spend  the  money  as  you  like,  gentlemen;  but  if  I, 
a  stranger,  may  suggest  it,  try  some  less  violent  color 
scheme  in  your  mural  decorations." 

He  seemed  choking  with  emotion  as  with  bowed  head 


102  KOSALIND   AT   BED    GATE 

he  pushed  his  way  through  the  circle  and  strode  past 
me.  The  people  stared  after  him,  mystified  and  marvel 
ing.  I  heard  an  old  man  calling  out : 

"How  wonderful  are  the  ways  of  the  Lord !" 
I  let  Gillespie  pass,  and  followed  him  slowly  until  a 
turn  in  the  road  hid  us  from  the  staring  church  folk. 
He  turned  and  saw  me. 

"You  have  discovered  me,  Donovan.  Be  sure  your 
sins  will  find  you  out!  A  simple  people,  singularly 
moved  at  the  sight  of  a  greenback.  I  have  rarely  caused 
so  much  excitement/'' 

"I  suppose  you  are  trying  to  ease  your  conscience  by 
giving  away  some  of  your  button  money/' 

"That  is  just  it,  Donovan.  You  have  struck  the  brass 
tack  on  the  head.  But  now  that  we  have  met  again, 
albeit  through  no  fault  of  my  own,  let  me  mention  mat 
ters  of  real  human  interest/' 

"You  might  tell  me  what  you're  doing  here  first." 
"Walking;  there  were  no  cabs,  Donovan." 
"You  choose  a  queer  hour  of  the  day  for  your  exer 
cise." 

"One  might  say  the  same  for  your  ride.  But  let  us  be 
sensible.  I  dare  say  1  here's  some  common  platform  on 
which  we  both  mav  stand." 


MIXED    AFFAIRS  103 

"We'll  assume  it,"  I  replied,  dismounting  by  the  road 
side  that  I  might  talk  more  easily.  Bandages  were  still 
visible  at  his  wrists,  and  a  strip  of  court-plaster  across 
the  knuckles  of  his  right  hand  otherwise  testified  to 
the  edges  of  the  glass  in  St.  Agatha's  garden.  He  held 
up  his  hands  ruefully. 

"Those  were  nasty  slashes;  and  I  ripped  them  up 
badly  in  climbing  out  of  your  window.  But  I  couldn't 
linger:  I  am  not  without  my  little  occupations.'' 

"You  stand  an  excellent  chance  of  being  shot  if  you 
don't  clear  out  of  this.  If  there's  any  shame  in  yo-u  you 
will  go  without  making  further  trouble." 

"It  has  occurred  to  me,"  he  began  slowly,  "that  I 
know  something  that  you  ought  to  know.  I  saw  Henry 
Holbrook  yesterday." 

"Where?"  I  demanded. 

"On  the  lake.  He's  rented  a  sloop  yacht  called  the 
Stiletto.  I  passed  it  yesterday  on  the  Aunandale  steamer 
and  I  saw  him  quite  distinctly." 

"It's  all  your  fault  that  he's  here !"  I  blurted,  thor 
oughly  aroused.  "If  you  had  not  followed  those  women 
they  might  have  spent  the  remainder  of  their  lives  here 
and  never  have  been  molested.  But  he  undoubtedly 
caught  the  trail  from  you." 


104  BOSALIND   AT   BED    GATE 

Gillespie  nodded  gravely  and  frowned  before  lie  an 
swered. 

"I  am  sorry  to  spoil  your  theory,  my  dear  Irish 
brother,  but  put  this  in  your  pipe :  Henry  was  here  first! 
He  rented  the  sail-boat  ten  days  ago — and  I  made  my 
triumphal  entry  a  week  later.  Explain  that,  if  you 
please,  Mr.  Donovan." 

I  was  immensely  relieved  by  this  disclosure,  for  it 
satisfied  me  that  I  had  not  been  mistaken  in  the  identity 
of  the  canoe-maker.  I  had,  however,  no  intention  of  tak 
ing  the  button  king  into  my  confidence. 

""Where  is  Holbrook  staying?"  I  asked  casually. 

"I  don't  know — he  keeps  afloat.  The  Stiletto  belongs 
to  a  Cincinnati  man  who  isn't  coming  here  this  summer 
and  Holbrook  has  got  the  use  of  the  yacht.  So  much  I 
learned  from  the  boat  storage  man  at  Annandale;  then 
I  passed  the  Stiletto  and  saw  Henry  on  board." 

It  was  clear  that  I  knew  more  than  Gillespie,  but  he 
had  supplied  me  with  several  interesting  bits  of  infor 
mation,  and,  what  was  more  to  the  point,  he  had 
confirmed  my  belief  that  Henry  Holbrook  and  the  canoe- 
maker  were  the  same  person. 

"You  must  see  that  I  face  a  difficult  situation  here, 
without  counting  you.  You  don't  strike  me  as  a  wholly 


MIXED    AFFAIRS  105 

bad  lot,  Gillespie,  and  why  won't  you  run  along  like  a 
good  boy  and  let  me  deal  with  Holbrook?  Then  when 
I  have  settled  with  him  I'll  see  what  can  be  done  for 
you.  Your  position  as  an  unwelcome  suitor,  engaged 
in  annoying  the  lady  you  profess  to  love,  and  causing 
her  great  anxiety  and  distress,  is  unworthy  of  the  really 
good  fellow  I  believe  you  to  be." 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment;  then  he  spoke  very 
soberly. 

"I  promise  you,  Donovan,  that  I  will  do  nothing  to 
encourage  or  help  Holbrook.  I  know  as  well  as  you  that 
he's  a  blackguard;  but  my  own  affairs  I  must  manage 
in  my  own  way/' 

"But  as  surely  as  you  try  to  molest  those  women  you 
will  have  to  answer  to  me.  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  be 
ginning  what  I  never  finish,  and  I  intend  to  keep  those 
women  out  of  your  way  as  well  as  out  of  Holbrook's 
clutches,  and  if  you  get  a  cracked  head  in  the  business — 
well,  the  crack's  in  your  own  skull,  Mr.  Gillespie." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  threw  up  his  head  and 
turned  away  down  the  road. 

There  was  something  about  the  fellow  that  I  liked. 
I  even  felt  a  certain  pity  for  him  as  I  passed  him  and 
rode  on.  He  seemed  simple  and  guileless,  but  with  a 


106  ROSALIND   AT    RED    GATE 

dogged  manliness  beneath  his  absurdities.  He  was  un 
doubtedly  deeply  attached  to  Helen  Holbrook  and  his 
pursuit  of  her  partook  of  a  knight-errantish  quality  that 
would  have  appealed  to  me  in  other  circumstances;  but 
he  was  the  most  negligible  figure  that  had  yet  appeared 
in  the  Holbrook  affair,  and  as  I  put  my  horse  to  the  lope 
my  thoughts  reverted  to  Red  Gate.  That  chess  game  and 
Helen's  visit  to  her  father  were  still  to  be  explained ;  if 
I  could  cut  those  cards  out  of  the  pack  I  should  be  ready 
for  something  really  difficult.  I  employed  myself  with 
such  reflections  as  I  completed  my  sweep  round  the  lake, 
reaching  Glenarm  shortly  after  two  o'clock. 

I  was  hot  and  hungry,  and  grateful  for  the  cool  breath 
of  the  house  as  I  entered  the  hall. 

"Miss  Holbrook  is  waiting  in  the  library,"  Ijima  an 
nounced  ;  and  in  a  moment  I  faced  Miss  Pat,  who  stood 
in  one  of  the  open  French  windows  looking  out  upon 
the  wood. 

She  appeared  to  be  deeply  absorbed  and  did  not  turn 
until  I  spoke. 

"I  have  waited  for  some  time;  I  have  something  of 
importance  to  tell  you,  Mr.  Donovan/'  she  began,  seat 
ing  herself. 

"Yes,  Miss  Holbrook." 


MIXED    AFFAIRS  107 

"You  remember  that  this  morning,  on  our  way  to 
the  chapel,  Helen  spoke  of  our  game  of  chess  yester 
day?" 

"I  remember  perfectly,"  I  replied ;  and  my  heart  be 
gan  to  pound  suddenly,  for  I  knew  what  the  next 
sentence  would  be. 

"Helen  was  not  at  St.  Agatha's  at  the  time  she  in 
dicated." 

"Well,  Miss  Pat,"  I  laughed,  "Miss  Holbrook  doesn't 
have  to  account  to  me  for  her  movements.  It  isn't  im 
portant — " 

"Why  isn't  it  important?"  demanded  Miss  Pat  in  a 
sharp  tone  that  was  new  to  me.  She  regarded  me  se 
verely,  and  as  I  blinked  under  her  scrutiny  she  smiled  a 
little  at  my  discomfiture. 

"Why,  Miss  Holbrook,  she  is  not  accountable  to  me 
for  her  actions.  If  she  fibbed  about  the  chess  it's  a  small 
matter." 

"Perhaps  it  is ;  and  possibly  she  is  not  accountable  to 
me,  either." 

"We  must  not  probe  human  motives  too  deeply,  Miss 
Holbrook,"  I  said  evasively,  wishing  to  allay  her  sus 
picions,  if  possible.  "A  young  woman  is  entitled  to 
her  whims.  But  now  that  you  have  told  me  this,  I  sup- 


108  ROSALIND    AT    RED    GATE 

pose  I  may  as  well  know  how  she  accounted  to  you  for 
this  trifling  deception." 

"Oh,  she  said  she  wished  to  explore  the  country  for 
herself ;  she  wished  to  satisfy  herself  of  our  safety ;  and 
she  didn't  want  you  to  think  she  was  running  foolishly 
into  danger.  She  chafes  under  restraint,  and  I  fear  does 
not  wholly  sympathize  with  my  runaway  tactics.  She 
likes  a  contest !  And  sometimes  Helen  takes  pleasure  in. 
— in — being  perverse.  She  has  an  idea,  Mr.  Donovan, 
that  you  are  a  very  severe  person." 

"I  am  honored  that  she  should  entertain  any  opinion 
of  me  whatever,"  I  replied,  laughing. 

"And  now,"  said  Miss  Pat,  "I  must  go  back.  Helen 
went  to  her  room  to  write  some  letters  against  a  time 
when  it  may  be  possible  to  communicate  with  our 
friends,  and  I  took  the  opportunity  to  call  on  you.  It 
might  be  as  well,  Mr.  Donovan,  not  to  mention  my 
visit." 

I  walked  beside  Miss  Pat  to  the  gate,  where  she  dis 
missed  me,  remarking  that  she  would  be  quite  ready  for 
a  ride  in  the  launch  at  five  o'clock. 

The  morning  had  added  a  few  new-colored  threads 
to  the  tangled  skein  I  was  accumulating,  but  I  felt  that 
with  the  chess  story  explained  I  could  safely  eliminate 


MIXED    AFFAIRS  109 

the  supernatural;  and  I  was  relieved  to  find  that  no 
matter  what  other  odd  elements  I  had  to  reckon  with,  a 
girl  who  could  be  in  two  places  at  the  same  time  was  not 
among  them. 

Holbrook  had  not  impressed  me  disagreeably;  he  had 
treated  me  rather  decently,  all  things  considered.  The 
fact  that  he  had  enemies  who  were  trying  to  kill  him 
added  zest  to  the  whole  adventure  upon  which  my  cler 
ical  friend  Stoddard  had  launched  me.  The  Italian 
sailor  was  a  long  way  from  tide-water,,  and  who  his 
employer  was — the  person  who  had  hung  aloof  so  con 
servatively  during  my  scramble  on  the  deck  of  the 
house-boat — remained  to  be  seen.  From  every  stand 
point  the  Holbrook  incident  promised  well,  and  I  was 
glad  to  find  that  human  beings  were  still  capable  of  in 
teresting  me  so  much. 


CHAPTER  VII 

A  BROKEN   OAE 

We  are  in  love's  land  to-day; 

Where  shall  we  go? 
Love,  shall  we  start  or  stay, 

Or  sail  or  row? 

There's  many  a  wind  and  way, 
And  never  a  May  but  May; 
We  are  in  love's  hand  to-day ; 

Where  shall  we  go? 

— Swinburne. 

The  white  clouds  of  the  later  afternoon  cruised  dream 
ily  between  green  wood  and  blue  sky.  I  brought  the 
launch  to  St.  Agatha's  landing  and  embarked  the  two 
exiles  without  incident.  We  set  forth  in  good  spirits, 
Ijima  at  the  engine  and  I  at  the  wheel.  The  launch  was 
comfortably  large,  and  the  bright  cushions,  with  Miss 
Pat's  white  parasol  and  Helen's  red  one,  marked  us  with 
the  accent  of  Venice.  I  drove  the  boat  toward  the  open 
to  guard  against  unfortunate  encounters,  and  the  course 
once  established  I  had  little  care  but  to  give  a  wide 
berth  to  all  the  other  craft  afloat.  Helen  exclaimed  re- 

110 


A   BROKEN    OAR  111 

peatedly  upon  the  beauty  of  the  lake,  which  the  west 
wind  rippled  into  many  variations  of  color.  I  was  flat 
tered  by  her  friendliness ;  and  yielded  myself  to  the  joy 
of  the  day,  agreeably  thrilled — I  confess  as  much — by 
her  dark  loveliness  as  she  turned  from  time  to  time  to 
speak  to  me. 

Snowy  sails  stood  forth  upon  the  water  like  listless 
clouds ;  paddles  flashed  as  they  rose  dripping  and  caught 
the  sun;  and  the  lake's  wooded  margins  gave  green 
frorizons,  cool  and  soothing  to  the  eye,  on  every  hand. 
One  of  the  lake  steamers  on  its  incessant  journeys  cre 
ated  a  little  sea  for  us,  but  without  disturbing  my  pas 
sengers. 

"Aunt  Pat  is  a  famous  sailor I"  observed  Helen  as  the 
launch  rocked.  "The  last  time  we  crossed  the  captain 
had  personally  to  take  her  below  during  a  hurricane." 

"Helen  always  likes  to  make  a  heroine  of  me,"  said 
Miss  Pat  with  her  adorable  smile.  "But  I  am  not  in  the 
least  afraid  on  the  water.  I  think  there  must  have  been 
sailors  among  my  ancestors." 

She  was  as  tranquil  as  the  day.  Her  attitude  toward 
her  niece  had  not  changed;  and  I  pleased  myself  with 
the  reflection  that  mere  ancestry — the  vigor  and  courage 
of  indomitable  old  sea  lords — did  not  sufficiently 


112  ROSALIND   AT    RED    GATE 

account  for  her,  but  that  she  testified  to  an  ampler  back 
ground  of  race  and  was  a  fine  flower  that  had  been  centu 
ries  in  making. 

We  cruised  the  shore  of  Port  Annandale  at  a  discreet 
distance  and  then  bore  off  again. 

"Let  us  not  go  too  near  shore  anywhere/'  said  Helen ; 
and  Miss  Pat  murmured  acquiescence. 

"No ;  we  don't  care  to  meet  people/'  she  remarked,  a 
trifle  anxiously. 

"I'm  afraid  I  don't  know  any  to  introduce  you  to/'  I 
replied,  and  turned  away  into  the  broadest  part  of  the 
lake.  The  launch  was  capable  of  a  lively  clip  and  the 
engine  worked  capitally.  I  had  no  fear  of  being  caught, 
even  if  we  should  be  pursued,  and  this,  in  the  broad 
light  of  the  peaceful  Sabbath  afternoon,  seemed  the 
remotest  possibility. 

It  had  been  understood  that  we  were  to  remain  out 
until  the  sun  dropped  into  the  western  wood,  and  I 
loitered  on  toward  the  upper  lake  where  the  shores  were 
rougher. 

"That's  a  real  island  over  there — they  call  it  Battle 
Orchard — you  must  have  a  glimpse  of  it." 

"Oh,  nothing  is  so  delightful  as  an  island  !"  exclaimed 
Helen ;  and  she  quoted  William  Sharp's  lines : 


A    BROKEN    OAR  113 

'There  is  an  Isle  beyond  our  ken, 
Haunted  by  Dreams  of  weary  men. 
Gray  Hopes  enshadow  it  with  wings 
Weary  with  burdens  of  old  things: 
There  the  insatiate  water-springs 
Rise  with  the  tears  of  all  who  weep: 
And  deep  within  it, — deep,  oh,  deep! — 
The  furtive  voice  of  Sorrow  sings. 
There  evermore, 

Till  Time  be  o'er, 

Sad,  oh,  so  sad!  the  Dreams  of  men 
Drift  through  the  Isle  beyond  our  ken." 


Ijima  had  scanned  the  lake  constantly  since  we 
started,  as  was  his  habit.  Miss  Pat  turned  to  speak  to 
Helen  of  the  shore  that  now  swept  away  from  us  in 
broader  curves  as  we  passed  out  of  the  connecting  chan 
nel  into  the  farther  lake.  Ijima  remarked  to  me  quietly, 
as  though  speaking  of  the  engine: 

"There's  a  man  following  in  a  rowboat." 

And  as  I  replied  to  some  remark  by  Miss  Pat,  I  saw, 
half  a  mile  distant,  its  sails  hanging  idly,  a  sloop  that 
answered  Gillespie's  description  of  the  Stiletto.  Its 
snowy  canvas  shone  white  against  the  green  verdure  of 
Battle  Orchard. 

"Shut  off  the  power  a  moment.  We  will  turn  here, 
Ijima," — and  I  called  Miss  Pat's  attention  to  a  hoary 
old  sycamore  on  the  western  shore. 


114  ROSALIND   AT   RED    GATE 

"Oh,  Fin  disappointed  not  to  cruise  nearer  the  island 
with  the  romantic  name,"  cried  Helen.  "And  there's  a 
yacht  over  there,  too !" 

I  already  had  the  boat  swung  round,  and  in  reversing 
the  course  I  lost  the  Stiletto ,  which  clung  to  the  island 
shore;  but  I  saw  now  quite  plainly  the  rowboat  Ijima 
had  reported  as  following  us.  It  hung  off  about  a  quar 
ter  of  a  mile  and  its  single  occupant  had  ceased  rowing 
and  shipped  his  oars  as  though  waiting.  He  was  between 
us  and  the  strait  that  connected  the  upper  and  lower 
lakes.  Though  not  alarmed  I  was  irritated  by  my  care 
lessness  in  venturing  through  the  strait  and  anxious  to 
return  to  the  less  wild  part  of  the  lake.  I  did  not  dare 
look  over  my  shoulder,  but  kept  talking  to  my  passen 
gers,  while  Ijima,  with  the  rare  intuition  of  his  race, 
understood  the  situation  and  indicated  by  gestures  the 
course. 

"There's  a  boat  sailing  through  the  green,  green 
wood,"  exclaimed  Helen;  and  true  enough,  as  we  crept 
in  close  to  the  shore,  we  could  still  see,  across  a  wooded 
point  of  the  island,  the  sails  of  the  Stiletto,  as  of  a  boat 
of  dreams,  drifting  through  the  trees.  And  as  I  looked  I 
saw  something  more.  A  tiny  signal  flag  was  run  quickly 
to  the  topmast  head,  withdrawn  once  and  flashed  back; 


A   BROKEN    OAR  115 

and  as  I  faced  the  bow  again  the  boatman  dropped  his 
oars  into  the  water. 

"What  a  strange-looking  man/*  remarked  Miss  Pat. 

"He  doesn't  look  like  a  native/'  I  replied  carelessly. 

The  launch  swung  slowly  around,  cutting  a  half -circle, 
of  which  the  Italian's  boat  was  the  center.  He  dallied 
idly  with  his  oars  and  seemed  to  pay  no  heed  to  us, 
though  he  glanced  several  times  toward  the  yacht,  which 
had  now  crept  into  full  view,  and  under  a  freshening 
breeze  was  bearing  southward. 

"Full  speed,  Ijima." 

The  engine  responded  instantly,  and  we  cut  through 
the  water  smartly.  There  was  a  space  of  about  twenty- 
five  yards  between  the  boatman  and  the  nearer  shore. 
I  did  not  believe  that  he  would  do  more  than  try  to 
annoy  us  by  forcing  us  on  the  swampy  shore ;  for  it  was 
still  broad  daylight,  and  we  were  likely  at  any  moment 
to  meet  other  craft.  I  was  confident  that  with  any  sort 
of  luck  I  could  slip  past  him  and  gain  the  strait,  or 
dodge  and  run  round  him  before  he  could  change  the 
course  of  his  heavy  skiff. 

I  kicked  the  end  of  an  oar  which  the  launch  carried 
for  emergencies  and  Ijima,  on  this  hint,  drew  it  toward 
him. 


116  ROSALIND    AT    RED    GATE 

"You  can  see  some  of  the  roofs  of  Port  Annandale 
across  the  neck  here,"  I  remarked,  seeing  that  the  women 
had  begun  to  watch  the  approaching  boat  uneasily. 

I  kept  up  a  rapid  fire  of  talk,  but  listened  only  to  the 
engine's  regular  beat.  The  launch  was  now  close  to  the 
Italian's  boat,  and  having  nearly  completed  the  semi 
circle  I  was  obliged  to  turn  a  little  to  watch  him.  Sud 
denly  he  sat  up  straight  and  lay  to  with  the  oars,  pulling 
hard  toward  a  point  we  must  pass  in  order  to  clear  the 
strait  and  reach  the  upper  lake  again.  The  fellow's  hos 
tile  intentions  were  clear  to  all  of  us  now  and  we  all 
silently  awaited  the  outcome.  His  skiff  rose  high  in  air 
under  the  impulsion  of  his  strong  arms,  and  if  he  struck 
our  lighter  craft  amidships,  as  seemed  inevitable,  he 
would  undoubtedly  swamp  us. 

Ijima  half  rose,  glanced  toward  the  yacht,  which  was 
heading  for  the  strait,  and  then  at  me,  but  I  shook  my 
head. 

"Mind  the  engine,  Ijima,"  I  said  with  as  much  cool 
ness  as  I  could  muster. 

The  margin  between  us  and  the  skiff  rapidly  dimin 
ished,  and  the  Italian  turned  to  take  his  bearings  with 
every  lift  of  his  oars.  He  had  thrown  off  his  cap,  and  as 
he  looked  over  his  shoulder  I  saw  his  evil  face  sharply 


A   BROKEN    OAR  117 

outlined.  I  counted  slowly  to  myself  the  number  of 
strokes  that  would  be  necessary  to  bring  him  in  collision 
if  he  persisted,  charging  against  his  progress  our  own 
swift,  arrow-like  flight  over  the  water.  The  shore  was 
close,  and  I  had  counted  on  a  full  depth  of  water,  but 
Ijima  now  called  out  warningly  in  his  shrill  pipe  and 
our  bottom  scraped  as  I  veered  off.  This  manoeuver  cost 
me  the  equivalent  of  ten  of  the  Italian's  deep  strokes, 
and  the  shallow  water  added  a  new  element  of  danger. 

"Stand  by  with  the  oar,  Ijima/'  I  'called  in  a  low 
tone;  and  I  saw  in  a  flash  Miss  Pat's  face,  quite  calm, 
but  with  her  lips  set  tight. 

Ten  yards  remained,  I  judged,  between  the  skiff  and 
the  strait,  and  there  was  nothing  for  us  now  but  to  let 
speed  and  space  work  out  their  problem. 

Ijima  stood  up  and  seized  the  oar.  I  threw  the  wheel 
hard  aport  in  a  last  hope  of  dodging,  and  the  launch 
listed  badly  as  it  swung  round.  Then  the  bow  of  the 
skiff  rose  high,  and  Helen  shrank  away  with  a  little  cry ; 
there  was  a  scratching  and  grinding  for  an  instant,  as 
Ijima,  bending  forward,  dug  the  oar  into  the  skiff's  bow 
and  checked  it  with  the  full  weight  of  his  body.  As  we 
fended  off  the  oar  snapped  and  splintered  and  he  tum 
bled  into  the  water  with  a  great  splash,  while  we  swerved 


118  EOSALIND    AT    EED    GATE 

and  rocked  for  a  moment  and  then  sped  on  through  the 
little  strait. 

Looking  back,  I  saw  Ijima  swimming  for  the  shore. 
He  rose  in  the  water  and  called  "All  right !"  and  I  knew 
he  would  take  excellent  care  of  himself.  The  Italian 
had  shipped  his  oars  and  lay  where  we  had  left  him,  and 
I  heard  him,  above  the  beat  of  our  engine,  laugh  de 
risively  as  we  glided  out  of  sight.  The  water  rippled 
pleasantly  beneath  us;  the  swallows  brushed  the  quiet 
blue  with  fleet  wings,  and  in  the  west  the  sun  was  spread 
ing  a  thousand  glories  upon  the  up-piling  clouds.  Out 
in  the  upper  lake  the  wind  freshened  and  we  heard  the 
low  rumble  of  thunder. 

"Miss  Holbrook,  will  you  please  steer  for  me?" — and 
in  effecting  the  necessary  changes  of  position  that  I 
might  get  to  the  engine  we  were  all  able  to  regain  our 
composure.  I  saw  Miss  Pat  touch  her  forehead  with  her 
handkerchief;  but  she  said  nothing.  Even  after  St. 
Agatha's  pier  hove  in  sight  silence  held  us  all.  The 
wind,  continuing  to  freshen,  was  whipping  the  lake 
with  a  sharp  lash,  and  I  made  much  of  my  trifling  busi 
ness  with  the  engine,  and  of  the  necessity  for  occasional 
directions  to  the  girl  at  the  wheel. 

My  contrition  at  the  danger  to  which  I  had  stupidly 


A   BROKEN    OAR  119 

brought  them  was  strong  in  me;  but  there  were  other 
things  to  think  of.  Miss  Pat  could  not  be  deceived  as  to 
the  animus  of  our  encounter,  for  the  Italian's  conduct 
could  hardly  be  accounted  for  on  the  score  of  stupidity ; 
and  the  natural  peace  and  quiet  of  this  region  only  em 
phasized  the  gravity  of  her  plight.  My  first  thought  was 
that  I  must  at  once  arrange  for  her  removal  to  some 
other  place.  With  Henry  Holbrook  established  within  a 
few  miles  of  St.  Agatha's  the  school  was  certainly  no 
longer  a  tenable  harborage. 

As  I  tended  the  engine  I  saw,  even  when  I  tried  to 
avoid  her,  the  figure  of  Helen  Holbrook  in  the  stern, 
quite  intent  upon  steering  and  calling  now  and  then  to 
ask  the  course  when  in  my  preoccupation  I  forgot  to 
give  it.  The  storm  was  drawing  a  dark  hood  across  the 
lake,  and  the  thunder  boomed  more  loudly.  Storms  in 
this  neighborhood  break  quickly  and  I  ran  full  speed 
for  St.  Agatha's  to  avoid  the  rain  that  already  blurred 
the  west. 

We  landed  with  some  difficulty,  owing  to  the  rough 
ened  water  and  the  hard  drive  of  the  wind ;  but  in  a  few 
minutes  we  had  reached  St.  Agatha's  where  Sister  Mar 
garet  flung  open  the  door  just  as  the  storm  let  go  with 
a  roar. 


120  ROSALIND   AT    RED    GATE 

When  we  reached  the  sitting-room  we  talked  with  un 
mistakable  restraint  of  the  storm  and  of  our  race  with 
it  across  the  lake — while  Sister  Margaret  stood  hy  mur 
muring  her  interest  and  sympathy.  She  withdrew  im 
mediately  and  we  three  sat  in  silence,  no  one  wishing  to 
speak  the  first  word.  I  saw  with  deep  pity  that  Miss 
Pat's  eyes  were  bright  with  tears,  and  my  heart  burned 
hot  with  self-accusation.  Sister  Margaret's  quick  step 
died  away  in  the  hall,  and  still  we  waited  while  the  rain 
drove  against  the  house  in  sheets  and  the  branches  of  a 
tossing  maple  scratched  spitefully  on  one  of  the  panes. 

"We  have  been  found  out;  my  brother  is  here,"  said 
Miss  Pat. 

"I  am  afraid  that  is  true,"  I  replied.  "But  you  must 
not  distress  yourself.  This  is  not  Sicily,  where  murder 
is  a  polite  diversion.  The  Italian  wished  merely  to 
frighten  us;  it's  a  case  of  sheerest  blackmail.  I  am 
ashamed  to  have  given  him  the  opportunity.  It  was  my 
fault — my  grievous  fault;  and  I  am  heartily  sorry  for 
my  stupidity." 

"Do  not  accuse  yourself !  It  was  inevitable  from  the 
beginning  that  Henry  should  find  us.  But  this  place 
seemed  remote  enough.  I  had  really  begun  to  feel  quite 
secure — but  now !" 


A   BKOKEN    OAR  121 

"But  now  r  repeated  Helen  with  a  little  sigh. 

I  marveled  at  the  girl's  composure — at  her  quiet  ac 
ceptance  of  the  situation,  when  I  knew  well  enough  her 
shameful  duplicity.  Then  by  one  of  those  intuitions  of 
grace  that  were  so  charming  in  her  she  bent  forward  and 
took  Miss  Pat's  hand.  The  emerald  rings  flashed  on 
both  as  though  in  assertion  of  kinship. 

"Dear  Aunt  Pat !  You  must  not  take  that  boat  affair 
too  seriously.  It  may  not  have  been — father — who  did 
that." 

She  faltered,  dropping  her  voice  as  she  mentioned 
her  father.  I  was  aware  that  Miss  Pat  put  away  her 
niece's  hand  with  a  sudden  gesture — I  did  not  know 
whether  of  impatience,  or  whether  some  new  resolution 
had  taken  hold  of  her.  She  rose  and  moved  nearer  to  me. 

"What  have  you  to  propose,  Mr.  Donovan  ?"  she  asked, 
and  something  in  her  tone,  in  the  light  of  her  dear  eyes, 
told  me  that  she  meant  to  fight,  that  she  knew  more  than 
she  wished  to  say,  and  that  she  relied  on  my  support; 
and  realizing  this  my  heart  went  out  to  her  anew.  A 
maid  brought  in  a  lamp  and  within  the  arc  of  its  soft 
light  I  saw  Helen's  lovely  head  as  she  rested  her  arms 
on  the  table  watching  us.  If  there  was  to  be  a  contest 
of  wits  or  of  arms  on  this  peaceful  lake  shore  under 


122  BOSAUKD   AT   RED   GATE 

the  high  arches  of  summer,  she  and  I  were  to  be  foes; 
and  while  we  waited  for  the  maid  to  withdraw  I  in 
dulged  in  foolish  speculations  as  to  whether  a  man  could 
love  a  girl  and  be  her  enemy  at  the  same  time. 

"I  think  we  ought  to  go  away — at  once,"  the  girl 
broke  out  suddenly.  "The  place  was  ill-chosen;  Father 
Stoddard  should  have  known  better  than  to  send  us 
here!" 

"Father  Stoddard  did  the  best  he  could  for  us,  Helen. 
It  is  unfair  to  blame  him/'  said  Miss  Pat  quietly.  "And 
Mr.  Donovan  has  been  much  more  than  kind  in  under 
taking  to  care  for  us  at  all." 

"I  have  blundered  badly  enough !"  I  confessed  peni 
tently. 

"It  might  be  better,  Aunt  Pat,"  began  Helen  slowly, 
"to  yield.  What  can  it  matter!  A  quarrel  over  money 
— it  is  sordid — " 

Miss  Pat  stood  up  abruptly  and  said  quietly,  without 
lifting  her  voice,  and  turning  from  one  to  the  other 
of  us: 

"We  have  prided  ourselves  for  a  hundred  years,  we 
American  Holbrooks,  that  we  had  good  blood  in  us,  and 
character  and  decency  and  morality;  and  now  that  the 
men  of  my  house  have  thrown  away  their  birthright, 


A   BROKEN    OAR  123 

and  made  our  name  a  plaything,  I  am  going  to  see 
whether  the  general  decadence  has  struck  me,  too;  and 
with  my  brother  Arthur,  a  fugitive  because  of  his  crimes, 
and  my  brother  Henry  ready  to  murder  me  in  his  greed, 
it  is  time  for  me  to  test  whatever  blood  is  left  in  my 
own  poor  old  body,  and  I  am  going  to  begin  now!  I 
will  not  run  away  another  step ;  I  am  not  going  to  be 
blackguarded  and  hounded  about  this  free  country  or 
driven  across  the  sea;  and  I  will  not  give  Henry  Hoi- 
brook  more  money  to  use  in  disgracing  our  name.  I 
have  got  to  die — I  have  got  to  die  before  he  gets  it/' — 
and  she  smiled  at  me  so  bravely  that  something  clutched 
my  throat  suddenly — "and  I  have  every  intention,  Mr. 
Donovan,  of  living  a  very  long  time  I" 

Helen  had  risen,  and  she  stood  staring  at  her  aunt  in 
frank  astonishment.  Not  often,  probably  never  before 
in  her  life,  had  anger  held  sway  in  the  soul  of  this 
woman;  and  there  was  something  splendid  in  its  mani 
festation.  She  had  spoken  in  almost  her  usual  tone, 
though  with  a  passionate  tremor  toward  the  close;  but 
her  very  restraint  was  in  itself  ominous. 

"It  shall  be  as  you  say,  Miss  Pat,"  I  said,  as  soon  as 
I  had  got  my  breath. 

"Certainly,    Aunt   Pat,"    murmured    Helen    tamely. 


124  ROSALIND    AT    RED    GATE 

"We  can't  be  driven  round  the  world.  We  may  as  well 
stay  where  we  are/' 

The  storm  was  abating  and  I  threw  open  the  windows 
to  let  in  the  air. 

"If  you  haven't  wholly  lost  faith  in  me,  Miss  Hoi- 
brook—" 

"I  have  every  faith  in  you,  Mr.  Donovan!"  smiled 
Miss  Pat. 

"I  shall  hope  to  take  better  care  of  you  in  the  future." 

"I  am  not  afraid.  I  think  that  if  Henry  finds  out 
that  he  can  not  frighten  me  it  will  have  a  calming  effect 
upon  him." 

"Yes ;  I  suppose  you  are  right,  Aunt  Pat,"  said  Helen 
passively. 

I  went  home  feeling  that  my  responsibilities  had  been 
greatly  increased  by  Miss  Pat's  manifesto;  on  the  whole 
I  was  relieved  that  she  had  not  ordered  a  retreat,  for  it 
would  have  distressed  me  sorely  to  abandon  the  game  at 
this  juncture  to  seek  a  new  hiding-place  for  my  charges. 

Long  afterward  Miss  Pat's  declaration  of  war  rang 
in  my  ears.  My  heart  leaps  now  as  I  remember  it.  And  I 
should  like  to  be  a  poet  long  enough  to  write  A  Ballade 
of  All  Old  Ladies,  or  a  lyric  in  their  honor  turned  with 
the  grace  of  Colonel  Lovelace  and  blithe  with  the  spirit 


A   BROKEN    OAR  125 

of  Friar  Herrick.  I  should  like  to  inform  it  with  their 
beautiful  tender  sympathy  that  is  quick  with  tears  but 
readier  with  strength  to  help  and  to  save;  and  it  should 
reflect,  too,  the  noble  patience,  undismayed  by  time  and 
distance,  that  makes  a  virtue  of  waiting — waiting  in  the 
long  twilight  with  folded  hands  for  the  ships  that  never 
come!  Men  old  and  battle-scarred  are  celebrated  in 
song  and  story;  but  who  are  they  to  be  preferred  over 
this  serene  sisterhood?  Let  the  worn  mothers  of  the 
world  be  throned  by  the  fireside  or  placed  at  comfort 
able  ease  in  the  shadow  of  hollyhocks  and  old-fashioned 
roses  in  familiar  gardens ;  it  matters  little,  for  they  are 
supreme  in  any  company.  Whoever  would  be  gracious 
must  serve  them;  whoever  would  be  wise  must  sit  at 
their  feet  and  take  counsel.  Nor  believe  too  readily  that 
the  increasing  tide  of  years  has  quenched  the  fire  in 
their  souls ;  rather,  it  burns  on  with  the  steady  flame  of 
sanctuary  lights.  Lucky  were  he  who  could  imprison  in 
song  those  qualities  that  crown  a  woman's  years — voic 
ing  what  is  in  the  hearts  of  all  of  us  as  we  watch  those 
gracious  angels  going  their  quiet  ways,  tending  their 
secret  altars  of  memory  with  flowers  and  blessing  them 
with  tears. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A  LADY  OP   SHADOWS  AND  STARLIGHT 

Still  do  the  stars  impart  their  light 
To  those  that  travel  in  the  night; 
Still  time  runs  on,  nor  doth  the  hand 
Or  shadow  on  the  dial  stand; 
The  streams  still  glide  and  constant  are: 

Only  thy  mind 

Untrue  I  find 

Which  carelessly 

Neglects  to  be 
Like  stream  or  shadow,  hand  or  star. 

— William  Cartwright. 

It  was  nine  o'clock  before  Ijima  came  in,  dripping 
from  his  tumble  in  the  lake  and  his  walk  home  through 
the  rain.  The  Italian  had  made  no  effort  to  molest  him, 
he  reported;  but  he  had  watched  the  man  row  out  to 
the  Stiletto  and  climb  aboard.  Ijima  has  an  unbroken 
record  of  never  having  asked  me  a  question  inspired 
by  curiosity.  He  may  inquire  which  shoes  I  want  for 
a  particular  morning,  but  why,  where  and  when  are 
unknown  in  his  vocabulary.  He  was,  I  knew,  fairly  en 
titled  to  an  explanation  of  the  incident  of  the  after- 

126 


A   LADY    OF    SHADOWS  127 

noon,  though  he  would  ask  none,  and  when  he  had 
changed  his  ( lothes  and  reported  to  me  in  the  library 
I  told  him  in  a  word  that  there  might  be  further  trou 
ble,  and  that  I  should  expect  him  to  stand  night  watch 
at  St.  Agatha's  for  a  while,  dividing  a  patrol  of  the 
grounds  with  the  gardener.  His  "Yes,  sir,"  was  as  calm 
as  though  I  had  told  him  to  lay  out  my  dress  clothes, 
and  I  went  with  him  to  look  up  the  gardener,  that  the 
division  of  patrol  duty  might  be  thoroughly  understood. 
I  gave  the  Scotchman  a  revolver  and  Ijima  bore  un 
der  his  arm  a  repeating  rifle  with  which  he  and  I  had 
diverted  ourselves  at  times  in  the  pleasant  practice  of 
breaking  glass  balls.  I  assigned  him  the  water-front 
and  told  the  gardener  to  look  out  for  intruders  from  the 
road.  These  precautions  taken,  I  rang  the  bell  at  St. 
Agatha's  and  asked  for  the  ladies,  but  was  relieved  to 
learn  that  they  had  retired,  for  the  situation  would  not 
be  helped  by  debate,  and  if  they  were  to  remain  at  St. 
Agatha's  it  was  my  affair  to  plan  the  necessary  defensive 
strategy  without  troubling  them.  And  I  must  admit 
here,  that  at  all  times,  from  the  moment  I  first  saw 
Helen  Holbrook  with  her  father  at  Bed  Gate,  I  had 
every  intention  of  shielding  her  to  the  utmost.  The 
thought  of  trapping  her,  of  catching  her,  flagrante  de- 


128  ROSALIND   AT    RED    GATE 


j  was  revolting;  I  had,  perhaps,  a  notion  that  in 
some  way  I  should  be  able  to  thwart  her  without  show 
ing  my  own  hand;  but  this,  as  will  appear,  was  not  to 
be  so  easily  accomplished. 

I  went  home  and  read  for  an  hour,  then  got  into  heavy 
shoes  and  set  forth  to  reconnoiter.  The  chief  avenue  of 
danger  lay,  I  imagined,  across  the  lake,  and  I  passed 
through  St.  Agatha's  to  see  that  my  guards  were  about 
their  business  ;  then  continued  along  a  wooded  bluff  that 
rose  to  a  considerable  height  above  the  lake.  There  was 
a  winding  path  which  the  pilgrimages  of  school-girls 
in  spring  and  autumn  had  worn  hard,  and  I  followed  ii 
to  its  crest,  where  there  was  a  stone  bench,  established 
for  the  ease  of  those  who  wished  to  take  their  sunsets  in 
comfort.  The  place  commanded  a  fair  view  of  the  lake, 
and  thence  it  was  possible  to  see  afar  off  any  boat  that 
approached  St.  Agatha's  or  Glenarm.  The  wooded  bluff 
was  cool  and  sweet  from  the  rain,  and  a  clear  light  was 
diffused  by  the  moon  as  I  lighted  my  pipe  and  looked  out 
upon  the  lake  for  signs  of  the  Stiletto. 

The  path  that  rose  through  the  wood  from  St.  Aga 
tha's  declined  again  from  the  seat,  and  came  out  some 
where  below,  where  there  was  a  spring  sacred  to  the 
school-girls,  and  where,  I  dare  say,  they  still  indulge  in 


A   LADY   OF    SHADOWS  129 

the  incantations  of  their  species.  I  amused  myself  pick 
ing  out  the  pier  lights  as  far  as  I  had  learned  them, 
following  one  of  the  lake  steamers  on  its  zigzag  course 
from  Port  Annandale  to  the  village.  Around  me  the 
great  elms  and  maples  still  dripped.  Eleven  chimed 
from  the  chapel  clock,  the  strokes  stealing  up  to  me 
dreamily.  A  moment  later  I  heard  a  step  in  the  path 
behind  me,  light,  quick,  and  eager,  and  I  bent  down  low 
on  the  bench,  so  that  its  back  shielded  me  from  view, 
and  waited.  I  heard  the  sharp  swish  of  bent  twigs  in 
the  shrubbery  as  they  snapped  back  into  place  in  the 
narrow  trail,  and  then  the  voice  of  some  one  humming 
softly.  The  steps  drew  closer  to  the  bench,  and  some  one 
passed  behind  me.  I  was  quite  sure  that  it  was  a  woman 
— from  the  lightness  of  the  step,  the  feminine  quality 
in  the  voice  that  continued  to  hum  a  little  song,  and  at 
the  last  moment  the  soft  rustle  of  skirts.  I  rose  and 
spoke  her  name  before  my  eyes  were  sure  of  her. 

"Miss  Holbrook !"  I  exclaimed. 

She  did  not  cry  out,  though  she  stepped  back  quickly 
from  the  bench. 

"Oh,  it's  you,  Mr.  Donovan,  is  it?" 

"It  most  certainly  is !"  I  laughed.  "We  seem  to  have 
similar  tastes,  Miss  Holbrook." 


130  ROSALIND    AT    RED    GATE 

"An  interest  in  geography,  shall  we  call  it?"  she 
chaffed  gaily. 

"Or  astronomy!  We  will  assume  that  we  are  both 
looking  for  the  Little  Dipper." 

"Good  I"  she  returned  on  my  own  note.  "Between  the 
affairs  of  the  Holbrooks  and  your  evening  Dipper  hunt 
you  are  a  busy  man,  Mr.  Donovan." 

"I  am  not  half  so  busy  as  you  are,  Miss  Holbrook! 
It  must  tax  you  severely  to  maintain  both  sides  of  the 
barricade  at  the  same  time,"  I  ventured  boldly. 

"That  does  require  some  ingenuity,"  she  replied  mus 
ingly,  "but  I  am  a  very  flexible  character." 

"But  what  will  bend  will  break — you  may  carry  the 
game  too  far." 

"Oh,  are  you  tired  of  it  already  ?" 

"Not  a  bit  of  it ;  but  I  should  like  to  make  this  stipu 
lation  with  you:  that  as  you  and  I  seem  to  be  pitted 
against  each  other  in  this  little  contest,  we  shall  fight  it 
all  out  behind  Miss  Pat's  back.  I  prefer  that  she 
shouldn't  know  what  a. — "  and  I  hesitated. 

"Oh,  give  me  a  name,  won't  you  ?"  she  pleaded  mock 
ingly. 

"What  a  beautiful  deceiver  you  are !" 

"Splendid !  We  will  agree  that  I  am  a  deceiver !" 


A   LADY    OF    SHADOWS  131 

"If  it  gives  you  pleasure !  You  are  welcome  to  all  the 
joy  you  can  get  out  of  it !" 

"Please  don't  be  bitter!  Let  us  play  fair,  and  not 
stoop  to  abuse." 

"I  should  think  you  would  feel  contrite  enough  after 
that  ugly  business  of  this  afternoon.  You  didn't  appear 
to  be  even  annoyed  by  that  Italian's  effort  to  smash  the 
launch." 

She  was  silent  for  an  instant ;  I  heard  her  breath  come 
and  go  quickly;  then  she  responded  with  what  seemed 
a  forced  lightness : 

"You  really  think  that  was  inspired  by — "  she  sud 
denly  appeared  at  a  loss. 

"By  Henry  Holbrook,  as  you  know  well  enough.  And 
if  Miss  Pat  should  be  murdered  through  his  enmity, 
don't  you  see  that  your  position  in  the  matter  would 
be  difficult  to  explain  ?  Murder,  my  dear  young  woman, 
is  not  looked  upon  complacently,  even  in  this  remote 
corner  of  the  world !" 

"You  seem  given  to  the  use  of  strong  language,  Mr. 
Donovan.  Let  us  drop  the  calling  of  names  and  consider 
just  where  you  put  me." 

"I  don't  put  you  at  all;  you  have  taken  your  own 
stand.  But  I  will  say  that  I  was  surprised,  not  to  say 


132  ROSALIND   AT    RED    GATE 

pained,  to  find  that  you  played  the  eavesdropper  the 
very  hour  you  came  to  Annandale." 

A  moment's  silence ;  the  water  murmured  in  the  reeds 
below;  an  owl  hooted  in  the  Glenarni  wood;  a  restless 
bird  chirped  from  its  perch  in  a  maple  overhead. 

"Oh,  to  be  sure  I"  she  said  at  last.  "You  thought  I 
was  listening  while  Aunt  Pat  unfolded  the  dark  history 
of  the  Holbrooks." 

"I  knew  it,  though  I  tried  to  believe  I  was  mistaken. 
But  when  I  saw  you  there  on  Tippecanoe  Creek,  meeting 
your  father  at  the  canoe-maker's  house,  I  was  astounded ; 
I  did  not  know  that  depravity  could  go  so  far." 

"My  poor,  unhappy,  unfortunate  father  I"  she  said  in 
a  low  voice ;  there  was  almost  a  moan  in  it. 

"I  suppose  you  defend  your  conduct  on  the  ground  of 
filial  duty,"  I  suggested,  finding  it  difficult  to  be  severe. 

"Why  shouldn't  I  ?  Who  are  you  to  judge  our  affairs  ? 
We  are  the  unhappiest  family  that  ever  lived;  but  I 
should  like  you  to  know  that  it  was  not  by  my  wish  that 
you  were  brought  into  our  councils.  There  is  more  in 
all  this  than  appears  !" 

"There  is  nothing  in  it  but  Miss  Pat — her  security, 
her  peace,  her  happiness.  I  am  pledged  to  her,  and  the 
rest  of  you  are  nothing  to  me.  But  you  may  tell  your 


A   LADY    OF    SHADOWS  133 

father  that  I  have  been  in  rows  before  and  that  I  pro 
pose  to  stand  by  the  guns." 

"I  shall  deliver  your  message,  Mr.  Donovan;  and  I 
give  you  my  father's  thanks  for  it,"  she  mocked. 

"Your  father  calls  you  Eosalind — before  strangers !" 
I  remarked. 

"Yes.  It's  a  fancy  of  his,"  she  murmured  lingeringly. 
"Sometimes  it's  Viola,  or  Perdita,  but,  as  I  think  of  it, 
if  s  oftener  Eosalind.  I  hope  you  don't  object,  Mr.  Don 
ovan  ?" 

"No,  I  rather  like  it;  it's  in  keeping  with  your  vari 
able  character.  You  seem  prone,  like  Eosalind,  to  wood 
land  wandering.  I  dare  say  the  other  people  of  the  cast 
will  appear  in  due  season.  So  far  I  have  seen  only  the 
Fool." 

"The  Fool?  Oh,  yes;  there  was  Touchstone,  wasn't 
there?" 

"I  believe  it  is  admitted  that  there  was." 

She  laughed;  I  felt  that  we  were  bound  to  get  on 
better,  now  that  we  understood  each  other. 

"You  are  rather  proud  of  your  attainments,  aren't 
you  ?  I  have  really  read  the  play,  Mr.  Donovan :  I  have 
even  seen  it  acted." 

"I  did  not  mean  to  reflect  on  your  intelligence,  which 


134:  ROSALIND   AT    RED    GATE 

is  acute  enough ;  or  on  your  attainments,  which  are  suf 
ficient  ;  or  on  your  experience  of  life,  which  is  ample !" 

"Well  spoken !  I  really  believe  that  I  am  liking  you 
better  all  the  time,  Mr.  Donovan/' 

"My  heart  is  swollen  with  gratitude.  You  heard  my 
talk  with  your  father  at  his  cottage  last  night.  And  then 
you  flew  back  to  Miss  Pat  and  played  the  hypocrite  with 
the  artlessness  of  Rosalind — the  real  Rosalind." 

"Did  I  ?  Then  I'm  as  clever  as  I  am  wicked.  You,  no 
doubt,  are  as  wise  as  you  are  good." 

She  folded  her  arms  with  a  quick  movement,  the  bet 
ter,  I  thought,  to  express  satisfaction  with  her  own  share 
of  the  talk;  then  her  manner  changed  abruptly.  She 
rested  her  hands  on  the  back  of  the  bench  and  bent  to 
ward  me. 

"My  father  dealt  very  generously  with  you.  You  were 
an  intruder.  He  was  well  within  his  rights  in  captur 
ing  you.  And,  more  than  that,  you  drew  to  our  place 
some  enemies  of  your  own  who  may  yet  do  us  grave  in 
jury." 

"They  were  no  enemies  of  mine !  Didn't  you  hear  me 
debating  that  matter  with  your  father  ?  They  were  his 
enemies  and  they  pounced  on  me  by  mistake.  It's  not 
their  fault  that  they  didn't  kill  me !" 


'A   LADY    OF    SHADOWS  135 

"That's  a  likely  story.  That  little  creek  is  the  quiet 
est  place  in  the  world." 

"How  do  you  know  ?"  I  demanded,  bending  closer  to 
ward  her. 

"Because  my  father  tells  me  so !  That  was  the  reason 
he  chose  it." 

"He  wanted  a  place  to  hide  when  the  cities  became 
too  hot  for  him.  I  advise  you,  Miss  Holbrook,  in  view 
of  all  that  has  happened,  and  if  you  have  any  sense  of 
decency  left,  to  keep  away  from  there." 

"And  I  suggest  to  you,  Mr.  Donovan,  that  your  de 
votion  to  my  aunt  does  not  require  you  to  pursue  mj. 
father.  You  do  well  to  remember  that  a  stranger  thrust 
ing  himself  into  the  affairs  of  a  family  he  does  not  know 
puts  himself  in  a  very  bad  light." 

"I  am  not  asking  your  admiration,  Miss  Holbrook." 

"You  may  save  yourself  the  trouble!"  she  flashed; 
and  the"n  laughed  out  merrily.  "Let  us  not  be  so  ab 
surd  !  We  are  quarreling  like  two  school-children  over 
an  apple.  It's  really  a  pleasure  to  meet  you  in  this  un 
conventional  fashion,  but  we  must  be  amiable.  Our  af 
fairs  will  not  be  settled  by  words — I  am  sure  of  that.  I 
must  beg  of  you,  the  next  time  you  come  forth  at  night, 
to  wear  your  cloak  and  dagger.  The  stage-setting  is 


136  ROSALIND    AT    EED    GATE 

fair  enough;  and  the  players  should  dress  their  parts 
becomingly.  I  am  already  named  Eosalind — at  night; 
Aunt  Pat  we  will  call  the  Duchess  in  exile ;  and  we  were 
speaking  a  moment  ago  of  the  Fool.  Well,  yes;  there 
was  a  Fool." 

"I  might  take  the  part  myself,  if  Gillespie  were  not 
already  cast  for  it." 

"Gillespie?"  she  said  wonderingly;  then  added  at 
once,  as  though  memory  had  prompted  her:  "To  be 
sure  there  is  Gillespie." 

"There  is  certainly  Gillespie.  Perhaps  you  would 
liefer  call  him  Orlando  ?"  I  ventured. 

"Let  me  see,"  she  pondered,  bending  her  head ;  then : 
"  '0,  that's  a  brave  man !  he  writes  brave  verses, 
speaks  brave  words,  swears  brave  oaths  and  breaks  them 
bravely,  quite  traverse,  athwart  the  heart  of  his  lover; 
as  a  puisny  tilter,  that  spurs  his  horse  but  on  one  side, 
breaks  his  staff  like  a  noble  goose;  but  all's  brave  that 
youth  mounts  and  folly  guides.' '' 

"That  is  Celia's  speech,  but  well  rendered.  Let  us 
consider  that  you  are  Rosalind,  Celia,  Viola  and  Ariel 
all  in  one.  And  I  shall  be  those  immortal  villains  of 
old  tragedy — first,  second  and  third  murtherer;  or,  if 
it  suit  you  better,  let  me  be  lago  for  honesty;  Othello 


A   LADY    OF    SHADOWS  137 

for  great  adventures;  Hamlet  for  gloom;  Shylock  for 
relentlessness,  and  Borneo  for  love-sickness." 

Again  she  bent  her  head ;  then  drawing  a  little  away 
and  clasping  her  hands,  she  quoted :  "  'Come,  woo  me, 
woo  me;  for  now  I  am  in  a  holiday  humour  and  like 
enough  to  consent.  What  would  you  say  to  me  now,  an 
I  were  your  very,  very  Eosalind  ?' 9i 

I  stammered  a  moment,  dimly  recalling  Orlando's 
reply  in  the  play.  I  did  not  know  whether  she  were  dar 
ing  me;  and  this  was  certainly  not  the  girl's  mood  as 
we  had  met  at  St.  Agatha's.  My  heart  leaped  and  the 
blood  tingled  in  my  finger-tips  as  memory  searched  out 
the  long-forgotten  scene;  and  suddenly  I  threw  at  her 
the  line : 

"  'How  if  the  kiss  be  denied  ?' " 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"The  rehearsal  has  gone  far  enough.  Let  us  come 
back  to  earth  again." 

But  this,  somehow,  was  not  so  easy. 

Far  across  the  lake  a  heavy  train  rumbled,  and  its 
engine  blew  a  long  blast  for  Annandale.  I  felt  at  that  in 
stant  the  unreality  of  the  day's  events,  with  their  culmi 
nation  in  this  strange  interview  on  the  height  above  the 
lake.  Never,  I  thought,  had  man  parleyed  with  woman 


138  KOSALIND    AT    BED    GATE 

on  so  extraordinary  a  business.  In  the  brief  silence, 
while  the  whistle's  echoes  rang  round  the  shore,  I  drew 
away  from  the  bench  that  had  stood  like  a  barricade  be 
tween  us  and  walked  toward  her.  I  did  not  believe  in 
her ;  she  had  flaunted  her  shameful  trickery  in  my  face ; 
and  yet  I  felt  her  spell  upon  me  as  through  the  dusk  I 
realized  anew  her  splendid  height,  the  faint  disclosure 
of  her  noble  head  and  felt  the  glory  of  her  dark  eyes. 
Verily,  a  lady  of  shadows,  moonlight  and  dreams,  whom 
it  befitted  well  to  walk  forth  at  night,  bent  upon  plots 
and  mischief,  and  compelling  love  in  such  foolish  hearts 
as  mine.  She  did  not  draw  away,  but  stood  quietly,  with 
her  head  uplifted,  a  light  scarf  caught  about  her  shoul 
ders,  and  on  her  head  a  round  sailors  cap,  tipped  away 
from  her  face. 

"You  must  go  back;  I  must  see  you  safely  to  St. 
Agatha's/'  I  said. 

She  turned,  drawing  the  scarf  close  under  her  throat 
with  a  quick  gesture,  as  though  about  to  go.  She  laughed 
with  more  honest  glee  than  I  had  known  in  her  before, 
and  I  forgot  her  duplicity,  forgot  the  bold  game  she  was 
playing,  and  the  consequences  to  which  it  must  lead; 
my  pulses  bounded  when  a  bit  of  her  scarf  touched  mj 
hand  as  she  flung  a  loose  end  over  her  shoulder. 


My  pulses  bounded  when  a  bit  of  her  scarf 
touched  my  hand.     Page  138 


A   LADY    OF    SHADOWS  139 

'  "My  dear  Mr.  Donovan,  you  propose  the  impossible ! 
We  are  foes,  you  must  remember,  and  I  can  not  accept 
your  escort." 

"But  I  have  a  guard  about  the  house ;  you  are  likely 
to  get  into  trouble  if  you  try  to  pass  through.  I  must 
ask  you  to  remember  our  pledge,  that  you  are  not  to  vex 
Miss  Pat  unnecessarily  in  this  affair.  To  rouse  her  in 
the  night  would  only  add  to  her  alarm.  She  has  had 
enough  to  worry  her  already.  And  I  rather  imagine/' 
I  added  bitterly,  "that  you  don't  propose  killing  her 
with  your  own  hands." 

"No ;  do  give  me  credit  for  that  I"  she  mocked.  "But 
I  shall  not  disturb  your  guards,  and  I  shall  not  distress 
Aunt  Pat  by  making  a  row  in  the  garden  trying  to  run 
your  pickets.  I  want  you  to  stay  here  five  minutes — 
count  them  honestly — until  I  have  had  time  to  get  back 
in  my  own  fashion.  Is  it  a  bargain  ?"  She  put  out  her 
hand  as  she  turned  away — her  left  hand.  As  my  fingers 
closed  upon  it  an  instant  the  emerald  ring  touched  my 
palm. 

"I  should  think  you  would  not  wear  that  ring/'  I 
said,  detaining  her  hand,  "it  is  too  like  hers;  it  is  as 
though  you  were  plighted  to  her  by  it." 

tffYes ;  it  is  like  her  own ;  she  gave  it — " 


140  EOSALIND    AT    EED    GATE 

She  choked  and  caught  her  breath  sharply  and  her 
hand  flew  to  her  face. 

"She  gave  it  to  my  mother,  long  ago,"  she  said,  and 
ran  away  down  the  path  toward  the  school.  A  bit  of 
gravel  loosened  by  her  step  slipped  after  her  to  a  new 
resting-place;  then  silence  and  the  night  closed  upon 
her. 

I  threw  myself  upon  the  bench  and  waited,  marveling 
at  her.  If  I  had  not  touched  her  hand;  if  I  had  not 
heard  her  voice ;  if,  more  than  all,  I  had  not  talked  with 
her  of  her  father,  of  Miss  Pat,  of  intimate  things  which 
no  one  else  could  have  known,  I  should  not  have  believed 
that  I  had  seen  Helen  Holbrook  face  to  face. 


CHAPTER   IX 

THE  LIGHTS   ON   ST.   AGATHA?S   PIER 

The  night  is  still,  the  moon  looks  kind, 
The  dew  hangs  jewels  in  the  heath, 

An  ivy  climbs  across  thy  blind, 
And  throws  a  light  and  misty  wreath. 

The  dew  hangs  jewels  in  the  heath, 
Buds  bloom  for  which  the  bee  has  pined; 

I  haste  along,  I  quicker  breathe, 
The  night  is  still,  the  moon  looks  kind. 

Buds  bloom  for  which  the  bee  has  pined, 
The  primrose  slips  its  jealous  sheath, 

As  up  the  flower-watched  path  I  wind 
And  come  thy  window-ledge  beneath. 

The  primrose  slips  its  jealous  sheath, — 
Then  open  wide  that  churlish  blind, 

And  kiss  me  through  the  ivy  wreath! 
The  night  is  still,  the  moon  looks  kind. 

— Edith  M.  Thomas. 

On  my  way  home  through  St.  Agatha's  I  stopped  to 
question  the  two  guards.  They  had  heard  nothing,  had 
seen  nothing.  How  that  girl  had  passed  them  I  did  not 
know.  I  scanned  the  main  building,  where  she  and  Miss 
Pat  had  two  rooms,  with  an  intervening  sitting-room, 

141 


U2  KOSALIND   AT   BED    GATE 

but  all  was  dark.  Miss  Helen  Holbrook  was  undeniably 
a  resourceful  young  woman  of  charm  and  wit,  and  I 
went  on  to  Glenarm  House  with  a  new  respect  for  her 
cleverness. 

I  was  abroad  early  the  next  morning,  retracing  my 
steps  through  St.  Agatha's  to  the  stone  bench  on  the 
bluff  with  a  vague  notion  of  confirming  my  memory  of 
the  night  by  actual  contact  with  visible,  tangible  things. 
The  lake  twinkled  in  the  sunlight,  the  sky  overhead  was 
a  flawless  sweep  of  blue,  and  the  foliage  shone  from  the 
deluge  of  the  early  night.  But  in  the  soft  mold  of  the 
path  the  print  of  a  woman's  shoe  was  unmistakable. 
Now,  in  Ireland,  when  I  was  younger,  I  believed  in 
fairies  with  all  my  heart,  and  to  this  day  I  gladly  break 
a  lance  for  them  with  scoffers.  I  know  folk  who  have 
challenged  them  and  been  answered,  and  I  have,  with 
my  own  eyes,  caught  glimpses  of  their  lights  along  Irish 
hillsides.  Once,  I  verily  believe,  I  was  near  to  speech 
with  them — it  was  in  a  highway  by  a  starlit  moor — but 
they  laughed  and  ran  away.  The  footprints  in  the 
school-path  were,  however,  no  elfin  trifles.  I  bent  down 
and  examined  them;  I  measured  them — ungraciously, 
indefensibly,  guiltily — with  my  hand,  and  rose  con 
vinced  that  the  neat  outlines  spoke  of  a  modish  boot- 


ON    ST.    AGATHA'S    PIER  143 

maker,  and  were  not  to  be  explained  away  as  marking 
the  lightly-limned  step  of  a  fairy  or  the  gold-sandaled 
flight  of  Diana.  Then  I  descended  to  St.  Agatha's  and 
found  Miss  Pat  and  Helen  loitering  tranquilly  in  the 
garden. 

America  holds  no  lovelier  spot  than  the  garden  of  St. 
Agatha's,  with  its  soft  slopes  of  lawn,  its  hedges  of  box, 
its  columned  roses,  its  interludes  of  such  fragrant  trifles 
as  mignonette  and  sweet  alyssum;  its  trellised  clematis 
and  honeysuckle  and  its  cool  background  of  vine-hung 
wall,  where  the  eye  that  wearies  of  the  riot  of  color  may 
find  rest. 

They  gave  me  good  morning — Miss  Pat  calm  and 
gracious,  and  Helen  in  the  spirit  of  the  morning  itself, 
smiling,  cool,  and  arguing  for  peace.  Deception,  as  a 
social  accomplishment,  she  had  undoubtedly  carried  far ; 
and  I  was  hard  put  to  hold  up  my  end  of  the  game.  I 
have  practised  lying  with  past-masters  in  the  art — the 
bazaar  keepers  of  Cairo,  horse  dealers  in  Moscow  and 
rug  brokers  in  Teheran ;  but  I  dipped  my  colors  to  this 
amazing  girl. 

"I'm  afraid  that  we  are  making  ourselves  a  nuisance 
to  you,"  said  Miss  Pat.  "I  heard  the  watchmen  patrol 
ling  the  walks  last  night." 


1-U  ROSALIND   AT    RED    GATE 

"Yes ;  it  was  quite  feudal  I'9  Helen  broke  in.  "I  felt 
that  we  were  back  at  least  as  far  as  the  eleventh  century. 
The  splash  of  water — which  you  can  hear  when  the  lake 
is  rough — must  be  quite  like  the  lap  of  water  in  a  moat. 
But  I  did  not  hear  the  clank  of  arms." 

"No/'  I  observed  dryly.  "Ijima  wears  blue  serge  and 
carries  a  gun  that  would  shoot  clear  through  a  crusader. 
The  gardener  is  a  Scotchman,  and  his  dialect  would  kill 
a  horse." 

Miss  Pat  paused  behind  us  to  deliberate  upon  a  new 
species  of  hollyhock  whose  minarets  rose  level  with  her 
kind,  gentle  eyes.  Something  had  been  in  my  mind,  and 
I  took  this  opportunity  to  speak  to  Helen. 

"Why  don't  you  avert  danger  and  avoid  an  ugly 
catastrophe  by  confessing  to  Miss  Pat  that  your  duty 
and  sympathy  lie  with  your  father  ?  It  would  save  a  lot 
of  trouble  in  the  end." 

The  flame  leaped  into  Helen's  face  as  she  turned 
tome. 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean!  I  have  never  been 
spoken  to  by  any  one  so  outrageously!"  She  glanced 
hurriedly  over  her  shoulder.  "My  position  is  hard 
enough;  it  is  difficult  enough,  without  this.  I  thought 
you  wished  to  help  us." 


ON   ST.    AGATHA'S    PIER  145 

I  stared  at  her ;  she  was  drifting  out  of  my  reckoning, 
and  leading  me  into  uncharted  seas. 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  have  not  talked 
with  your  father — that  you  have  not  seen  him  here  ?"  I 
besought. 

"Yes ;  I  have  seen  him — once,  and  it  was  by  accident. 
It  was  quite  by  accident." 

"Yes;  I  know  of  that— " 

"Then  you  have  been  spying  upon  me,  Mr.  Donovan !" 

"Why  did  you  tell  me  that  outrageously  foolish  tale 
about  your  chess  game,  when  I  knew  exactly  where  you 
were  at  the  very  hour  you  would  have  had  me  think  you 
were  dutifully  engaged  with  your  aunt  ?  It  seems  to  me, 
my  dear  Miss  Holbrook,  that  that  is  not  so  easy  of  ex 
planation,  even  to  my  poor  wits/' 

"That  was  without  purpose;  really  it  was!  I  was 
restless  and  weary  from  so  much  confinement ;  you  can't 
know  how  dreary  these  late  years  have  been  for  us — for 
me — and  I  wished  just  once  to  be  free.  I  went  for  a  long 
walk  into  the  country.  And  if  you  saw  me,  if  you 
watched  me — " 

I  gazed  at  her  blankly.  The  thing  could  not  have  been 
better  done  on  the  stage;  but  Miss  Pat  was  walking 
toward  us,  and  I  put  an  end  to  the  talk. 


146  ROSALIND    AT    EED    GATE 

"I  came  upon  him  by  accident — I  had  no  idea  he  was 
here/'  she  persisted. 

"Yon  are  not  growing  tired  of  us,"  began  Miss  Pat, 
with  her  brave,  beautiful  smile ;  "you  are  not  anxious  to 
be  rid  of  us?" 

"I  certainly  am  not,"  I  replied.  "I  can't  tell  you  how 
glad  I  am  that  you  have  decided  to  remain  here.  I  am 
quite  sure  that  with  a  little  patience  we  shall  wear  out 
the  besiegers.  Our  position  here  has,  you  may  say,  the 
strength  of  its  weaknesses.  I  think  the  policy  of  the 
enemy  is  to  harass  you  by  guerilla  methods— to  annoy 
you  and  frighten  you  into  submission." 

"Yes ;  I  believe  you  are  right,"  she  said  slowly.  Helen 
had  walked  on,  and  I  loitered  beside  Miss  Pat. 

"I  hope  you  have  had  no  misgivings,  Miss  Pat,  since 
our  talk  yesterday." 

"None  whatever,"  she  replied  quickly.  "I  am  quite 
persuaded  in  my  own  mind  that  I  should  have  been 
better  off  if  I  had  made  a  stand  long  ago.  I  don't  be 
lieve  cowardice  ever  pays,  do  you  ?" 

She  smiled  up  at  me  in  her  quick,  bright  way,  and  I 
was  more  than  ever  her  slave. 

"Miss  Holbrook,  you  are  the  bravest  woman  in  the 
world!  I  believe  you  are  right.  I  think  I  should  be 


ON    ST.    AGATHA'S    PIER  147 

equal  to  ten  thousand  men  with  your  spirit  to  put  heart 
into  me." 

"Don't  be  foolish,"  she  said,  laughing.  "But  to  show 
you  that  I  am  not  really  afraid,  suppose  you  offer  to 
take  us  for  a  drive  this  evening.  I  think  it  would  be  well 
for  me  to  appear  to-day,  just  to  show  the  enemy  that  we 
are  not  driven  to  cover  by  our  little  adventure  in  the 
launch  yesterday." 

"Certainly!  Shall  we  carry  outriders  and  a  rear 
guard?" 

"Not  a  bit  of  it.  I  think  we  may  be  able  to  shame  my 
brother  out  of  his  evil  intentions  by  our  def  enselessness." 

We  waited  for  Helen  to  rejoin  us,  and  the  drive  was 
planned  for  five.  Promptly  on  the  hour,  after  a  day  of 
activity  on  my  part  in  cruising  the  lake,  looking  for 
signs  of  the  enemy,  we  set  forth  in  an  open  trap,  and 
plunged  into  country  roads  that  traversed  territory  new 
to  all  of  us.  I  carried  Ijima  along,  and  when,  after  a 
few  miles,  Helen  asked  to  take  the  reins,  I  changed  seats 
with  her,  and  gave  myself  up  to  talk  with.  Miss  Pat. 
The  girl's  mood  was  grave,  and  she  wished  to  drive,  I 
fancied,  as  an  excuse  for  silence.  The  land  rolled  grad 
ually  away  into  the  south  and  west,  and  we  halted,  in  an 
hour  or  so,  far  from  the  lake,  on  a  wooded  eminence  that 


148  ROSALIND    AT    EED    GATE 

commanded  a  long  sweep  in  every  direction,  and  drew 
into  the  roadside.  Ijima  opened  a  gate  that  admitted  us 
to  a  superb  maple  grove,  and  in  a  few  minutes  we  were 
having  tea  from  the  hamper  in  the  cheeriest  mood  in 
the  world.  The  sun  was  contriving  new  marvels  in  the 
west,  and  the  wood  that  dipped  lakeward  beneath  us 
gave  an  illusion  of  thick  tapestry  to  the  eye. 

"We  could  almost  walk  to  the  lake  over  the  trees," 
said  Miss  Pat.  "It's  a  charming  picture." 

Then,  as  we  all  turned  to  the  lake,  seeing  it  afar 
across  the  tree-tops  through  the  fragrant  twilight,  I  saw 
the  Stiletto  standing  out  boldly  upon  the  waters  of  An- 
nandale,  with  a  languid  impudence  that  I  began  to  as 
sociate  with  its  slim  outlines  and  snowy  canvas.  Other 
craft  were  abroad,  and  Miss  Pat,  I  judged,  spoke  only 
of  the  prettiness  of  the  general  landscape,  and  there  was, 
to  be  sure,  no  reason  why  the  sails  of  the  Stiletto  should 
have  had  any  particular  significance  for  her.  Helen  was 
still  looking  down  upon  the  lake  when  Miss  Pat  sug 
gested  that  we  should  go  home ;  and  even  after  her  aunt 
called  to  her,  the  girl  still  stood,  one  hand  resting  upon 
the  trunk  of  a  great  beech,  her  gaze  bent  wistfully, 
mournfully  toward  the  lake.  But  on  the  homeward  drive 
— she  had  asked  for  the  reins  again — her  mood  changed 


ON   ST.   AGATHA'S   PIER  149 

abruptly,  and  she  talked  cheerily,  often  turning  her  head 
— a  scarlet-banded  sailor  hat  was,  I  thought,  remarkably 
becoming — to  chaff  about  her  skill  with  the  reins. 

"I  haven't  a  care  or  trouble  in  the  world,"  declared 
Miss  Pat  when  I  left  them  at  St.  Agatha's.  "I  am  sure 
that  we  have  known  the  worst  that  can  happen  to  us  in 
Annandale.  I  refuse  to  be  a  bit  frightened  after  that 
drive." 

"It  was  charming,"  said  Helen.  "This  is  better  than 
the  English  lake  country,  because  it  isn't  so  smoothed 
out." 

"I  will  grant  you  all  of  that/'  I  said.  "I  will  go 
further  and  admit — what  is  much  for  me — that  it  is 
almost  equal  to  Killarney." 

There  seemed  to  be  sincerity  in  their  good  spirits,  and 
I  was  myself  refreshed  and  relieved  as  I  drove  into 
Glenarm ;  but  I  arranged  for  the  same  guard  as  on  the 
night  before.  Helen  Holbrook's  double-dealing  created 
a  condition  of  affairs  that  demanded  cautious  handling, 
and  I  had  no  intention  of  being  caught  napping. 

I  am  not,  let  me  say,  a  person  who  boasts  of  his 
knowledge  of  human  nature.  Good  luck  has  served  to 
minimize  my  own  lack  of  subtlety  in  dealing  with  my 
fellow-creatures;  and  I  take  no  credit  for  such  fortune 


150  ROSALIND    AT    RED    GATE 

as  I  have  enjoyed  in  contests  of  an}-  sort  with  men  or 
women.  As  for  the  latter,  I  admire,  I  reverence,  I  love 
them;  but  I  can  not  engage  to  follow  them  when  they 
leave  the  main  road  for  short  cuts  and  by-paths.  The 
day  had  gone  so  well  that  I  viewed  the  night  with  com 
placency.  I  read  my  foreign  newspapers  with  a  recur 
rence  of  the  joy  that  the  thought  of  remote  places 
always  kindles  in  me.  An  article  in  The  Times  on  the 
unrest  in  Bulgaria — the  same  old  article  on  the  same  old 
unrest — gave  me  the  usual  heartache :  I  have  been  wait 
ing  ten  years  for  something  to  happen  in  that  neighbor 
hood — something  really  significant  and  offering  a  chance 
for  fun,  and  it  seems  as  far  away  as  ever. 

Prom  the  window  of  my  room  I  saw  the  Japanese  boy 
patrolling  the  walks  of  St.  Agatha's,  and  the  Holbrooks' 
affairs  seemed  paltry  and  tame  in  contrast  with  the  real 
business  of  war.  A  buckboard  of  youngsters  from  Port 
Annandale  passed  in  the  road,  leaving  a  trail  of  song 
behind  them.  Then  the  frog  choruses  from  the  little 
brook  that  lay  hidden  in  the  Glenarm  wood  sounded  in 
my  ears  with  maddening  iteration,  and  I  sought  the 
open. 

The  previous  night  I  had  met  Helen  Holbrook  by  the 
stone  seat  on  the  ridge,  and  I  can  not  deny  that  it  was 


ON    ST.    AGATHA'S    PIER  151 

with  the  hope  of  seeing  her  again  that  I  set  forth.  That 
touch  of  her  hand  in  the  moonlight  lingered  with  me :  I 
thrilled  with  eagerness  as  I  remembered  how  my  pulses 
bounded  when  I  found  myself  so  close  to  her  there  in  the 
fringe  of  wood.  She  was  beautiful  with  a  rare  loveliness 
at  all  times,  yet  I  found  myself  wondering  whether,  on 
the  strange  frontiers  of  love,  it  was  her  daring  duplicity 
that  appealed  to  me.  I  set  myself  stubbornly  into  a 
pillory  reared  of  my  own  shame  at  the  thought,  and  went 
out  and  climbed  upon  the  Glenarm  wall  and  stared  at 
the  dark  bulk  of  St.  Agatha's  as  I  punished  myself  for 
having  entertained  any  other  thought  of  Helen  Hoi- 
brook  than  of  a  weak,  vain,  ungrateful  girl,  capable  of 
making  sad  mischief  for  her  benefactor. 

Ijima  passed  and  repassed  in  the  paved  walk  that 
curved  among  the  school  buildings ;  I  heard  his  step,  and 
marked  his  pauses  as  he  met  the  gardener  at  the  front 
door  by  an  arrangement  that  I  had  suggested.  As  I  con 
sidered  the  matter  I  concluded  that  Helen  Holbrook 
could  readily  slip  out  at  the  back  of  the  house,  when  the 
guards  thus  met,  and  that  she  had  thus  found  egress  on 
the  night  before. 

At  this  moment  the  two  guards  met  precisely  ai  the 
front  door,  and  to  my  surprise  Sister  Margaret,  in  the 


152  ROSALIND   AT   BED   GATE 

brown  garb  of  her  Sisterhood,  stepped  out,  nodded  to  the 
watchmen  in  the  light  of  the  overhanging  lamp,  and 
walked  slowly  round  the  buildings  and  toward  the  lake. 
The  men  promptly  resumed  their  patrol.  The  Sister 
slipped  away  like  a  shadow  through  the  garden;  and  I 
dropped  down  from  the  wall  inside  the  school  park  and 
stole  after  her.  The  guards  were  guilty  of  no  impro 
priety  in  passing  her;  there  was,  to  be  sure,  no  reason 
why  Sister  Margaret  should  not  do  precisely  as  she  liked 
at  St.  Agatha's.  However,  my  curiosity  was  piqued,  and 
I  crept  quietly  along  through  the  young  maples  that 
fringed  the  wall.  She  followed  a  path  that  led  down  to 
the  pier,  and  I  hung  back  to  watch,  still  believing  that 
Sister  Margaret  had  gone  forth  merely  to  enjoy  the  peace 
and  beauty  of  the  night.  I  paused  in  a  little  thicket,  and 
heard  her  light  step  on  the  pier  flooring ;  and  I  drew  as 
near  as  I  dared,  in  the  shadow  of  the  boat-house. 

She  stood  beside  the  upright  staff  from  which  the  pier 
lights  swung — the  white  lantern  between  the  two  red 
ones — looking  out  across  the  lake.  The  lights  outlined 
her  tall  figure  distinctly.  She  peered  about  anxiously 
several  times,  and  I  heard  the  impatient  tap  of  her  foot 
on  the  planks.  In  the  lake  sounded  the  faint  gurgle  of 
water  round  a  paddle,  and  in  a  moment  a  canoe  glided 


OK   ST.   AGATHA'S    PIER  153 

to  the  pier  and  a  man  stepped  out.  He  bent  down  to 
seize  the  painter,  and  I  half  turned  away,  ashamed  of 
the  sheer  curiosity  that  had  drawn  me  after  the  Sister. 
Nuns  who  chafe  at  their  prison-bars  are  not  new,  either 
to  romance  or  history ;  and  this  surely  was  no  affair  of 
mine.  Then  the  man  stood  up,  and  I  saw  that  it  was 
Gillespie.  He  was  hatless,  and  his  arms  were  bared.  He 
began  to  speak,  but  she  quieted  him  with  a  word;  and 
as  with  a  gesture  she  flung  back  her  brown  hood,  I  saw 
that  it  was  Helen  Holbrook. 

"I  had  given  you  up/'  she  said. 

He  took  both  her  hands  and  held  them,  bending 
toward  her  eagerly.  She  seemed  taller  than  he  in  the 
lantern  light. 

"I  should  have  come  across  the  world,"  he  said. 

"You  must  believe  that  I  should  not  have  asked  this  of 
you  if  I  had  not  believed  you  could  do  it  without  injury 
to  yourself — that  it  would  impose  no  great  burden  on 
you,  and  that  you  would  not  think  too  ill  of  me — " 

"I  love  you ;  I  am  here  because  I  love  you  \"  he  said ; 
and  I  thought  better  of  him  than  I  had.  He  was  a  fool, 
and  weak ;  but  he  was,  I  believed,  an  honest  fool,  and  my 
heart  grew  hot  with  jealous  rage  as  I  saw  them  there 
together. 


154  KOSALIND   AT    EED    GATE 

"If  there  is  more  I  can  do !" 

"No ;  and  I  should  not  ask  you  if  there  were.  I  have 
gone  too  far,  as  it  is,"  she  sighed. 

"You  must  take  no  risks;  you  must  take  care  that 
Miss  Pat  knows  nothing." 

"No;  I  must  see  father.  He  must  go  away.  I  believe 
he  has  lost  his  senses  from  brooding  on  his  troubles." 

"But  how  did  he  ever  get  here  ?  There  is  something 
very  strange  about  it." 

"Oh_,  I  knew  he  would  follow  us !  But  I  did  not  tell 
him  I  was  coming  here — I  hope  you  did  not  believe  that 
of  me.  I  did  not  tell  him  any  more  than  I  told  you." 

He  laughed  softly. 

"You  did  not  need  to  tell  me ;  I  could  have  found  you 
anywhere  in  the  world,  Helen.  That  man  Donovan  is 
watching  you  like  a  hawk ;  but  he's  a  pretty  good  fellow, 
with  a  Milesian  joy  in  a  row.  He's  going  to  protect 
Miss  Pat  and  you  if  he  dies  at  the  business." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  I  saw  her  disdain  of 
me  in  her  face.  A  pretty  conspiracy  this  was,  and  I 
seemed  to  be  only  the  crumpled  wrapping  of  a  pack  of 
cards,  with  no  part  in  the  game. 

Gillespie  drew  an  envelope  from  his  pocket,  held  it  to 
the  white  lantern  for  an  instant,  then  gave  it  to  her. 


ON    ST     AGATHA'S    PIER  165 

"I  telegraphed  to  Chicago  for  a  draft.  He  will  have 
to  leave  here  to  get  it — the  bank  at  Annandale  carries 
no  such  sum;  and  it  will  be  a  means  of  getting  rid  of 
him." 

"Oh,  I  only  hope  he  will  leave — he  must — he  must!" 
she  cried. 

"You  must  go  back,"  he  said.  "These  matters  will  all 
come  right  in  the  end,  Helen,"  he  added  kindly.  "There 
is  one  thing  I  do  not  understand." 

"Oh,  there  are  many  things  I  do  not  understand !" 

"The  thing  that  troubles  me  is  that  your  father  was 
here  before  you." 

"No — that  isn't  possible ;  I  can't  believe  it." 

"He  had  engaged  the  Stiletto  before  you  came  to  An 
nandale  ;  and  while  I  wa£  tracing  you  across  the  country 
he  was  already  here  somewhere.  He  amuses  himself  with 
the  yacht." 

"Yes,  I  know;  he  is  more  of  a  menace  that  way — 
always  in  our  sight — always  where  I  must  see  him !" 

Her  face,  clearly  lighted  by  the  lanterns,  was  touched 
with  anxiety  and  sorrow,  and  I  saw  her,  with  that  pret 
tiest  gesture  of  woman's  thousand  graces — the  nimble 
touch  that  makes  sure  no  errant  bit  of  hair  has  gone 
wandering — lift  her  hand  to  her  head  for  a  moment. 


156  ROSALIND   AT    RED    GATE 

The  emerald  ring  flashed  in  the  lantern  light.  I  recall  a 
thought  that  occurred  to  me  there — that  the  widow's 
peak,  so  sharply  marked  in  her  forehead,  was  like  the 
finger-print  of  some  playful  god.  She  turned  to  go,  but 
he  caught  her  hands. 

"Helen !"  he  cried  softly. 

"No!  Please  don't!" 

She  threw  the  nun's  hood  over  her  head  and  walked 
rapidly  up  the  pier  and  stole  away  through  the  garden 
toward  St.  Agatha's.  Gillespie  listened  for  her  step  to 
die  away,  then  he  sighed  heavily  and  bent  down  to  draw 
up  his  canoe.  When  I  touched  him  on  the  shoulder  he 
rose  and  lifted  the  paddle  menacingly. 

"Ah,  so  it's  our  young  and  gifted  Irish  friend  I"  he 
said,  grinning.  "No  more  sprinting  stunts  for  me!  I 
decline  to  run.  The  thought  of  asparagus  and  powdered 
glass  saddens  me.  Look  at  these  hands — these  little 
hands  still  wrapped  in  mystical  white  rags.  I  have  bled 
at  every  pore  to  give  you  entertainment,  and  now  if  s 
got  to  be  twenty  paces  with  bird-guns." 

"What  mischief  are  you  in  now  ?"  I  demanded  angrily. 
"I  thought  I  warned  you,  Gillespie;  I  thought  I  even 
appealed  to  your  chivalry." 

"My  dear  fellow,  everything  has  changed.  If  a  nun  in 


ON   ST.   AGATHA'S   PIER  157 

distress  appeals  to  me  for  help,  I  am  Johnny-on-the- 
spot  for  Mother  Church." 

"That  was  not  the  Sister,  it  was  Miss  Holbrook.  I 
saw  her  distinctly ;  I  heard—" 

"By  Jove,  this  is  gallant  of  you,  Donovan !  You  are 
a  marvelous  fellow !" 

"I  have  a  right  to  ask — I  demand  to  know  what  it  was 
you  gave  the  girl." 

"Matinee  tickets — the  American  girl  without  matinee 
tickets  is  a  lonely  pleiad  bumping  through  the  void." 

"You  are  a  contemptible  ass.  Your  conduct  is  scoun 
drelly.  If  you  want  to  see  Miss  Holbrook,  why  don't  you 
go  to  the  house  and  call  on  her  like  a  gentleman?  And 
as  for  her — n 

"Yes ;  and  as  for  her—?" 

He  stepped  close  to  me  threateningly. 

"And  as  for  her—?"  he  repeated. 

"As  for  her,  she  may  go  too  far !" 

"She  is  not  answerable  to  you.  She's  the  finest  girl  in 
the  world,  and  if  you  intimate — " 

"I  intimate  nothing.  But  what  I  saw  and  heard  in 
terested  me  a  good  deal,  Gillespie." 

"What  you  heard  by  stealth,  creeping  about  here  at 
night,  prying  into  other  people's  affairs !" 


158  EOSALIND   AT   EED    GATE 

"I  have  pledged  myself  to  care  for  Miss  Pat." 

"It's  noble  of  you,  Donovan!"  and  he  stepped  away 
from  me,  grinning.  "Miss  Pat  suggests  nothing  to  me 
but  ^button,  button,  who's  got  the  button?'  She's  a 
bloomin'  aristocrat,  while  I'm  the  wealth-cursed  child  of 
democracy/' 

"You're  a  charming  specimen !"  I  growled. 

It  was  plain  that  he  saw  nothing  out  of  the  way  in 
thus  conniving  with  Helen  Holbrook  against  her  aunt, 
and  that  he  had  not  been  struck  by  the  enormity  of  the 
girl's  conduct  in  taking  money  from  him.  He  drew  in 
his  canoe  as  I  debated  with  myself  what  to  do  with  him. 

"You've  got  to  leave  the  lake,"  I  said.  "You've  got  to 

go." 

"Then  I'm  going,  thank  you !" 

He  sprang  into  the  canoe,  driving  it  far  out  of  my 
reach ;  his  paddle  splashed,  and  he  was  gone. 

"Is  that  you,  sir?"  called  Ijima  behind  me.  "I 
thought  I  heard  some  one  talking." 

"It  is  nothing,  Ijima." 


CHAPTER   X 

THE   FLUTTER  OF  A   HANDKERCHIEF 

As  a  bell  in  a  chime 

Sets  its  twin-note  a-ringing, 
As  one  poet's  rhyme 

Wakes  another  to  singing, 
So  once  she  has  smiled 
All  your  thoughts  are  beguiled, 
And  flowers  and  song  from  your  childhood  are  bringing. 

******* 

Each  grace  is  a  jewel 

Would  ransom  the  town; 
Her  speech  has  no  cruel, 
Her  praise  is  renown; 
'Tis  in  her  as  though  Beauty, 
Resigning  to  Duty 
The  scepter,  had  still  kept  the  purple  and  crown. 

— Robert  Underwood  Johnson. 

The  next  morning  at  eight  o'clock  I  sent  a  note  to 
Miss  Pat,  asking  if  she  and  the  other  ladies  of  her  house 
would  not  take  breakfast  with  me  at  nine ;  and  she  re 
plied,  on  her  quaint  visiting-card,  in  an  old-fashioned 
hand,  that  she  and.  Helen  would  be  glad  to  come,  but 
that  Sister  Margaret  begged  to  be  excused.  It  had  been 

159 


160  ROSALIND   AT   RED   GATE 

in  my  mind  from  the  first  to  ask  them  to  dine  at  Glen- 
arm,  and  now  I  wished  to  see  this  girl,  to  test,  weigh, 
study  her,  as  soon  as  possible  after  her  meeting  with 
Gillespie.  I  wished  to  see  how  she  would  bear  herself 
before  her  aunt  and  me  with  that  dark  transaction  on 
her  conscience.  The  idea  pleased  me,  and  when  I  saw 
the  two  women  coming  through  the  school  garden  I  met 
them  at  the  gate. 

Breakfast  seems  to  be,  in  common  experience,  the  most 
difficult  meal  of  the  day,  and  yet  that  hour  hangs  in 
memory  still  as  one  of  the  brightest  I  ever  spent.  The 
table  was  set  on  the  terrace,  and  its  white  napery,  the 
best  Glenarm  silver  and  crystal,  and  a  bowl  of  red  roses 
still  dewy  from  the  night,  all  blended  coolly  with  the 
morning.  As  the  strawberries  were  passed  I  felt  that  the 
little  table  had  brought  us  together  in  a  new  intimacy. 
It  was  delightful  to  sit  face  to  face  with  Miss  Pat,  and 
not  less  agreeable  to  have  at  my  right  hand  this  be 
wildering  girl,  whose  eyes  laughed  at  me  when  I  sought 
shame  in  their  depths.  Miss  Pat  poured  the  coffee,  and 
when  I  took  my  cup  I  felt  that  it  carried  benediction 
with  it.  I  was  glad  to  see  her  so  at  peace  with  the  world, 
and  her  heart  was  not  older,  I  could  have  sworn,  than 
the  roses  before  her. 


A   HANDKERCHIEF  161 

"I  shall  refuse  to  leave  when  my  time  is  up !"  she  de 
clared.  "Do  you  think  you  could  spend  a  winter  here, 
Helen?" 

"I  should  love  it  I"  the  girl  replied.  "It  would  be  per 
fectly  splendid  to  watch  the  seasons  march  across  the 
lake.  We  can  both  enroll  ourselves  at  St.  Agatha's  as 
post-graduate  students,  and  take  a  special  course  in 

weather  here/' 

-^, 

"If  I  didn't  sometimes  hear  trains  passing  Annandale 
in  the  night,  I  should  forget  that  there's  a  great  busy 
world  off  there  somewhere,"  said  Miss  Pat.  "I  am 
ashamed  of  myself  for  having  been  so  long  discovering 
this  spot.  Except  one  journey  to  California,  I  was  nevei 
west  of  Philadelphia  until  I  came  here." 

The  world  was  satisfactory  as  it  stood;  and  I  was 
aware  of  no  reason  why  it  should  move  on.  The  chime 
of  the  chapel  tower  drifted  to  us  drowsily,  as  though 
anxious  to  accommodate  itself  to  the  mood  of  a  day  that 
began  business  by  shattering  the  hour-glass.  The  mist 
that  hung  over  the  water  rose  lazily,  and  disclosed  the 
lake  agleam  in  the  full  sunlight.  Though  Miss  Pat  was 
content  to  linger,  Helen,  I  thought,  appeared  restless; 
she  rose  and  walked  to  the  edge  of  the  terrace,  the  better 
to  scan  the  lake,  while  Miss  Pat  and  I  talked  on.  Miss 


162  EOSALIND    AT    EED    GATE 

Pat's  gift  of  detachment  was  remarkable ;  if  we  had  been 
looking  down  from  a  balcony  upon  the  Grand  Canal,  or 
breakfasting  in  an  Italian  garden,  she  could  not  have 
been  more  at  ease;  nor  did  she  refer  even  remotely  to 
the  odd  business  that  had  brought  her  to  the  lake.  She 
was,  to  be  explicit,  describing  in  her  delightful  low 
voice,  and  in  sentences  vivid  with  spirit  and  color,  a 
visit  she  had  once  paid  to  a  noble  Italian  family  at  their 
country  seat.  As  Helen  wandered  out  of  hearing  I 
thought  Miss  Pat  would  surely  seize  the  opportunity  to 
speak  of  the  girl's  father,  at  least  to  ask  whether  I  had 
heard  of  him  further ;  but  she  avoided  all  mention  of  her 
troubles. 

Helen  stood  by  the  line  of  scarlet  geraniums  that 
marked  the  balustrade,  at  a  point  whence  the  best  view 
of  the  lake  was  obtainable — her  hands  clasped  behind 
her,  her  head  turned  slightly. 

"There  is  no  one  quite  like  her  \"  exclaimed  Miss  Pat. 

"She  is  beautiful  I"  I  acquiesced. 

Miss  Pat  talked  on  quickly,  as  though  our  silence 
might  cause  Helen  to  turn  and  thus  deprive  us  of  the 
picture. 

''Should  you  like  to  look  over  the  house?"  I  asked  a 
little  later,  when  Helen  had  come  back  to  the  table.  "It 


A    HANDKERCHIEF  163 

is  said  to  be  one  of  the  finest  houses  in  interior  America, 
and  there  are  some  good  pictures." 

"We  should  be  very  glad,"  said  Miss  Pat;  and  Helen 
murmured  assent. 

"But  we  must  not  stay  too  long,  Aunt  Pat.  Mr.  Don 
ovan  has  his  own  affairs.  We  must  not  tax  his  generosity 
too  far." 

"And  we  are  going  to  send  some  letters  off  to-day.  If 
it  isn't  asking  too  much,  I  should  like  to  drive  to  the 
village  later,"  said  Miss  Pat. 

"Yes;  and  I  should  like  a  paper  of  pins  and  a  new 
magazine,"  said  Helen,  a  little,  a  very  little  eagerness  in 
her  tone. 

"Certainly.  The  stable  is  at  your  disposal,  and  our 
entire  marine." 

"But  we  must  see  the  Glenarm  pictures  first,"  said 
Miss  Pat,  and  we  went  at  once  into  the  great  cool  house, 
coming  at  last  to  the  gallery  on  the  third  floor. 

"Whistler !"  Miss  Pat  exclaimed  in  delight  before  the 
famous  Lady  in  the  Gray  Cloak.  "I  thought  that  picture 
was  owned  in  England." 

"It  was ;  but  old  Mr.  Glenarm  had  to  have  it.  That 
Meissonier  is  supposed  to  be  in  Paris,  but  you  see  it's 
here." 


164  ROSALIND   AT   RED    GATE 

"It's  wonderful !"  said  Miss  Pat.  She  returned  to  the 
Whistler  and  studied  it  with  rapt  attention,  and  I  stood 
by,  enjoying  her  pleasure.  One  of  the  housemaids  had 
followed  us  to  the  gallery  and  opened  the  French  win 
dows  giving  upon  a  balcony,  from  which  the  lake  lay 
like  a  fold  of  blue  silk  beyond  the  wood.  Helen  had 
passed  on  while  Miss  Pat  hung  upon  the  Whistler. 

"How  beautifully  those  draperies  are  suggested, 
Helen.  That  is  one  of  the  best  of  all  his  things." 

But  Helen  was  not  beside  her,  as  she  had  thought. 
There  were  several  recesses  in  the  room,  and  I  thought 
the  girl  had  stepped  into  one  of  these,  but  just  then  I 
saw  her  shadow  outside. 

"Miss  Holbrook  is  on  the  balcony/'  I  said. 

"Oh,  very  well.  We  must  go,"  she  replied  quietly,  but 
lingered  before  the  picture. 

I  left  Miss  Pat  and  crossed  the  room  to  the  balcony. 
As  I  approached  one  of  the  doors  I  saw  Helen,  standing 
tiptoe  for  greater  height,  slowly  raise  and  lower  her 
handkerchief  thrice,  as  though  signaling  to  some  one  on 
the  water. 

I  laughed  outright  as  I  stepped  beside  her. 

"It's  better  to  be  a  picture  than  to  look  at  one,  Miss 
Holbrook!  Allow  me!" 


A   HANDKERCHIEF  165 

In  her  confusion  she  had  dropped  her  handkerchief, 
and  when  I  returned  it  she  slipped  it  into  her  cuff  with 
a  murmur  of  thanks.  A  flash  of  anger  lighted  her  eyes 
and  she  colored  slightly;  but  she  was  composed  in  an 
instant.  And,  looking  off  beyond  the  water-tower,  I  was 
not  surprised  to  see  the  Stiletto  quite  near  our  shore, 
her  white  sails  filling  lazily  in  the  scant  wind.  A  tiny 
flag  flashed  recognition  and  answer  of  the  girl's  signal, 
and  was  hauled  down  at  once. 

We  were  both  silent  as  we  watched  it;  then  I  turned 
to  the  girl,  who  bent  her  head  a  moment,  tucking  the 
handkerchief  a  trifle  more  securely  into  her  sleeve.  She 
smiled  quizzically,  with  a  compression  of  the  lips. 

"The  view  here  is  fine,  isn't  it  ?" 

We  regarded  each  other  with  entire  good  humor.  I 
heard  Miss  Pat  within,  slowly  crossing  the  bare  floor  of 
the  gallery. 

"You  are  incomparable!"  I  exclaimed.  "Verily,  a 
daughter  of  Janus  has  come  among  us !" 

"The  best  pictures  are  outdoors,  after  all/'  commented 
Miss  Pat;  and  after  a  further  ramble  about  the  house 
they  returned  to  St.  Agatha's,  whence  we  were  to  drive 
together  to  Annandale  in  half  an  hour. 

I  went  to  the   stone  water-tower  and  scanned  the 


166  ROSALIND   AT    BED    GATE 

movements  of  the  Stiletto  with,  a  glass  while  I  waited. 
The  sloop  was  tacking  slowly  away  toward  Annandale, 
her  skipper  managing  his  sheet  with  an  expert  hand.  It 
may  have  been  the  ugly  business  in  which  the  pretty  toy 
was  engaged,  or  it  may  have  been  the  lazy  deliberation 
of  her  oblique  progress  over  the  water,  but  I  felt  then 
and  afterward  that  there  was  something  sinister  in 
every  line  of  the  Stiletto.  The  more  I  deliberated  the 
less  certain  I  became  of  anything  that  pertained  to  the 
Holbrooks;  and  I  tested  my  memory  by  repeating  the 
alphabet  and  counting  ten,  to  make  sure  that  my  wits 
were  still  equal  to  such  exercises. 

We  drove  into  Annandale  without  incident  and  with 
no  apparent  timidity  on  Miss  Pat's  part.  Helen  was  all 
amiability  and  cheer.  I  turned  perforce  to  address  her 
now  and  then,  and  was  ashamed  to  find  that  the  lurking 
smile  about  her  lips,  and  a  challenging  light  in  her  eyes, 
woke  no  resentment  in  me.  The  directness  of  her  gaze 
was  in  itself  disconcerting;  there  was  no  heavy-lidded 
insolence  about  her :  her  manner  suggested  a  mischievous 
child  who  hides  your  stick  and  with  feigned  interest 
aids  your  search  for  it  in  impossible  places. 

I  left  Miss  Pat  and  Helen  at  the  general  store  while 
I  sought  the  hardware  merchant  with  a  list  of  trifles 


A    HANDKERCHIEF  167 

required  for  Glenarm.  I  was  detained  some  time  longer 
than  I  had  expected,  and  in  leaving  I  stood  for  a  moment 
on  the  platform  before  the  shop,  gossiping  with  the 
merchant  of  village  affairs.  I  glanced  down  the  street 
to  see  if  the  ladies  had  appeared,  and  observed  at  the 
same  time  my  team  and  wagon  standing  at  the  curb  in 
charge  of  the  driver,  just  as  I  had  left  them. 

While  I  still  talked  to  the  merchant,  Helen  came  out 
of  the  general  store,  glanced  hurriedly  up  and  down  the 
street,  and  crossed  quickly  to  the  post-office,  which  lay 
opposite.  I  watched  her  as  I  made  my  adieux  to  the 
shopkeeper,  and  just  then  I  witnessed  something  that 
interested  me  at  once.  Within  the  open  door  of  the 
post-office  the  Italian  sailor  lounged  idly.  Helen  carried 
a  number  of  letters  in  her  hand,  and  as  she  entered  the 
post-office — I  was  sure  my  eyes  played  me  no  trick — 
deftly,  almost  imperceptibly,  an  envelope  passed  from 
her  hand  to  the  Italian's.  He  stood  immovable,  as  he  had 
been,  while  the  girl  passed  on  into  the  office.  She  re 
appeared  at  once,  recrossed  the  street  and  met  her  aunt 
at  the  door  of  the  general  store.  I  rejoined  them,  and 
as  we  all  met  by  the  waiting  trap  the  Italian  left  the 
post-office  and  strolled  slowly  away  toward  the  lake. 

I  was  not  sure  whether  Miss  Pat  saw  him.  If  she  did 


168  ROSALIND   AT   RED    GATE 

she  made  no  sign,  but  began  describing  with  much 
amusement  an  odd  countryman  she  had  seen  in  the  shop. 

"You  mailed  our  letters,  did  you,  Helen?  Then  I 
believe  we  have  quite  finished,  Mr.  Donovan.  I  like  your 
little  village ;  I'm  disposed  to  love  everything  about  this 
beautiful  lake." 

"Yes;  even  the  town  hall,  where  the  Old  Georgia 
Minstrels  seem  to  have  appeared  for  one  night  only, 
some  time  last  December,  is  a  shrine  worthy  of  pil 
grimages/"'  remarked  Helen.  "And  postage  stamps  cost 
110  more  here  than  in  Stamford.  I  had  really  expected 
that  they  would  be  a  trifle  dearer." 

I  laughed  rather  more  than  was  required,  for  those 
wonderful  eyes  of  hers  were  filled  with  something  akin 
to  honest  fun.  She  was  proud  of  herself,  and  was  even 
flushed  the  least  bit  with  her  success. 

As  we  passed  the  village  pier  I  saw  the  Stiletto  lying 
at  the  edge  of  the  inlet  that  made  a  miniature  harbor  for 
the  village,  and,  rowing  swiftly  toward  it,  his  oars  flash 
ing  brightly,  wras  the  Italian,  still  plainly  in  sight. 
Whether  Miss  Pat  saw  the  boat  and  ignored  it,  or  failed 
to  see,  I  did  not  know,  for  when  I  turned  she  was  study 
ing  the  cover  of  a  magazine  that  lay  in  her  lap.  Helen 
fell  to  talking  vivaciously  of  the  contrasts  between 


A   HANDKEBCHIEF  169 

American  and  English  landscape;  and  so  we  drove  back 
to  St.  Agatha's. 

Thereafter,  for  the  matter  of  ten  days,  nothing  hap 
pened.  I  brought  the  ladies  of  St.  Agatha's  often  to 
Glenarm,  and  we  went  forth  together  constantly  by  land 
and  water  without  interruption.  They  received  and 
despatched  letters,  and  nothing  marred  the  quiet  order 
of  their  lives.  The  Stiletto  vanished  from  my  horizon, 
and  lay,  so  Ijima  learned  for  me,  within  the  farther 
lake.  Henry  Holbrook  had,  I  made  no  doubt,  gone  away 
with  the  draft  Helen  had  secured  from  GKllespie,  and 
of  Gillespie  himself  I  heard  nothing. 

As  for  Helen,  I  found  it  easy  to  forgive,  and  I  grew 
eloquently  defensive  whenever  my  heart  accused  her. 
Her  moods  were  as  changing  as  those  of  the  lake,  and, 
like  it,  knew  swift-gathering,  passionate  storms.  Helen 
of  the  stars  was  not  Helen  of  the  vivid  sunlight.  The 
mystery  of  night  vanished  in  her  zest  for  the  day,  and  I 
felt  that  her  spirit  strove  against  mine  in  all  our  contests 
with  paddle  and  racquet,  or  in  our  long  gallops  into  the 
heart  of  the  sunset.  She  had  fashioned  for  the  night  a 
dream-world  in  which  she  moved  like  a  whimsical 
shadow,  but  by  day  the  fire  of  the  sun  flashed  in  her 
blood. 


KO  ROSALIND   AT   RED    GATE 

We  established  between  ourselves  a  comradeship  that 
was  for  me  delightfully  perilous,  but  which — so  she 
intimated  one  day,  as  though  in  warning — was  only  an 
armed  neutrality.  We  were  playing  tennis  in  the  Glen- 
arm  court  at  the  time,  and  she  smashed  the  ball  back  to 
me  viciously. 

"Your  serve/'  she  said. 

And  thus,  with  the  joy  of  June  filling  the  world,  the 
enchanted  days  sped  by. 


CHAPTER   XI 

THE   CARNIVAL  OF   CANOES 

Thou  canst  not  wave  thy  staff  in  air, 

Or  dip  thy  paddle  in  the  lake, 

But  it  carves  the  bow  of  beauty  there, 

And  the  ripples  in  rhymes  the  oar  forsake. 

— Emerson. 

I  had  dined  alone  and  was  lounging  about  the  grounds 
when  I  heard  voices  near  the  Glen  arm  wall.  There  was 
no  formal  walk  there,  and  my  steps  were  silenced  by 
the  turf.  The  heavy  scent  of  flowers  from  within  gave 
me  a  hint  of  my  whereabouts ;  there  was,  I  remembered, 
at  this  point  on  the  school  lawn  a  rustic  bench  embow 
ered  in  honeysuckle,  and  Miss  Pat  and  Helen  were,  I 
surmised,  taking  their  coffee  there.  I  started  away, 
thinking  to  enter  by  the  gate  and  join  them,  when 
Helen's  voice  rose  angrily — there  was  no  mistaking  it, 
and  she  said  in  a  tone  that  rang  oddly  on  my  ears : 

"But  you  are  unkind  to  him !  You  are  unjust !  It  is 
not  fair  to  blame  father  for  his  ill-fortune/' 

"That  is  true,  Helen;  but  it  is  not  your  father's  ill- 
171 


172  ROSALIND    AT    RED    GATE 

fortune  that  I  hold  against  him.  All  I  ask  of  him  is  to 
be  sane,  reasonable,  to  change  his  manner  of  life,  and  to 
come  to  me  in  a  spirit  of  fairness/' 

"But  he  is  proud,  just  as  you  are ;  and  Uncle  Arthur 
ruined  him !  It  was  not  father,  but  Uncle  Arthur,  who 
brought  all  these  hideous  things  upon  us." 

I  passed  rapidly  on,  and  resumed  my  walk  elsewhere. 
It  was  a  sad  business,  the  shadowy  father ;  the  criminal 
uncle,  who  had,  as  Helen  said,  brought  ruin  upon  them 
all;  the  sweet,  motherly,  older  sister,  driven  in  des 
peration  to  hide ;  and,  not  less  melancholy,  this  beautiful 
girl,  the  pathos  of  whose  position  had  struck  me  increas 
ingly.  Perhaps  Miss  Pat  was  too  severe,  and  I  half  ac 
cused  her  of  I  know  not  what  crimes  of  rapacity  and 
greed  for  withholding  her  brother's  money;  then  I  set 
my  teeth  hard  into  my  pipe  as  my  slumbering  loyalty  to 
Miss  Pat  warmed  in  my  heart  again. 

"It's  the  night  of  the  carnival,  sir,"  Ijima  reminded 
me,  seeking  me  at  the  water-tower. 

"Very  good,  Ijima.  You  needn't  lock  the  boat-house. 
I  may  go  out  later." 

The  cottagers  at  Port  Annandale  hold  once  every 
summer  a  canoe  fete,  and  this  was  the  appointed  night. 
I  was  in  no  mood  for  gaiety  of  any  sort,  but  it  occurred 


THE    CARNIVAL    OF    CANOES          173 

to  me  that  I  might  relieve  the  strained  relations  be 
tween  Helen  and  her  aunt  by  taking  them  out  to  watch 
the  procession  of  boats.  I  passed  through  the  gate  and 
took  a  turn  or  two,  not  to  appear  to  know  of  the  where 
abouts  of  the  women,,  and  to  my  surprise  met  Miss  Pat 
walking  alone. 

She  greeted  me  with  her  usual  kindness,  but  I  knew 
that  I  had  broken  upon  sad  reflections.  Her  handker 
chief  vanished  into  the  silk  bag  she  wore  at  her  wrist. 
Helen  was  not  in  sight,  but  I  strolled  back  and  forth 
with  Miss  Pat,  thinking  the  girl  might  appear. 

"I  had  a  note  from  Father  Stoddard  to-day,"  said 
Miss  Pat. 

"I  congratulate  you,"  I  laughed.  "He  doesn't  honor 
me." 

"He's  much  occupied,"  she  remarked  defensively; 
"and  I  suppose  he  doesn't  indulge  in  many  letters.  Mine 
was  only  ten  lines  long,  not  more !" 

"Father  Stoddard  feels  that  he  has  a  mission  in  the 
world,  and  he  has  little  time  for  people  like  us,  who 
have  food,  clothes  and  drink  in  plenty.  He  gives  his 
life  to  the  hungry,  unclothed  and  thirsty." 

And  now,  quite  abruptly,  Miss  Pat  spoke  of  her 
brother. 


174  ROSALIND   AT   RED   GATE 

"Has  Henry  goner 

"Yes;  he  left  ten  days  ago." 

She  nodded  several  times,  then  looked  at  me  and 
smiled. 

"You  have  frightened  him  off!  I  am  grateful  to 
you!" — and  I  was  glad  in  my  heart  that  she  did  not 
know  that  Gillespie's  money  had  sent  him  away. 

Helen  had  not  appeared,  and  I  now  made  bold  to  ask 
for  her. 

"Let  me  send  the  maid  to  tell  her  you  are  here/'  said 
Miss  Pat,  and  we  walked  to  the  door  and  rang. 

The  maid  quickly  reported  that  Miss  Holbrook  begged 
to  be  excused. 

"She  is  a  little  afraid  of  the  damp  night  air  of  the 
garden/'  said  Miss  Pat,  with  so  kind  an  intention  that  I 
smiled  to  myself.  It  was  at  the  point  of  my  tongue  to 
remark,  in  my  disappointment  at  not  seeing  her,  that 
she  must  have  taken  sudden  alarm  at  the  lake  atmos 
phere;  but  Miss  Pat  talked  on  unconcernedly.  I  felt 
from  her  manner  that  she  wished  to  detain  me.  No  one 
might  know  how  her  heart  ached,  but  it  was  less  the 
appeal  of  her  gentleness  that  won  me  now,  I  think,  than 
the  remembrance  that  flashed  upon  me  of  her  passionate 
outburst  after  our  meeting  with  the  Italian;  and  that 


THE    CARNIVAL   OF    CANOES          175 

seemed  very  long  ago.  She  had  been  magnificent  that 
day,  like  a  queen  driven  to  desperation,  and  throwing 
down  the  gauntlet  as  though  she  had  countless  bat 
talions  at  her  back.  Indecision  took  flight  before  shame ; 
it  was  a  privilege  to  know  and  to  serve  her ! 

"Miss  Holbrook,  won't  you  come  out  to  see  the  water 
fete  ?  We  can  look  upon  it  in  security  and  comfort  from 
the  launch.  The  line  of  march  is  from  Port  Annandale 
past  here  and  toward  the  village,  then  back  again.  You 
can  come  home  whenever  you  like.  I  had  hoped  Miss 
Helen  might  come,  too,  but  I  beg  that  you  will  take 
compassion  upon  my  loneliness." 

I  had  flung  off  my  cap  with  the  exaggerated  manner  I 
sometimes  used  with  her ;  and  she  dropped  me  a  courtesy 
with  the  prettiest  grace  in  the  world. 

"I  shall  be  with  you  in  a  moment,  my  lord  \" 

She  reappeared  quickly  and  remarked,  as  I  took  her 
wraps,  that  Helen  was  very  sorry  not  to  come. 

The  gardener  was  on  duty,  and  I  called  Ijima  to  help 
with  the  launch.  Brightly  decorated  boats  were  already 
visible  in  the  direction  of  Port  Annandale;  even  the 
tireless  lake  "tramps"  whistled  with  a  special  flourish 
and  were  radiant  in  vari-colored  lanterns. 

"This  is  an  ampler  Venice,  but  there  should  be  music 


176  KOSALIND    AT   EED    GATE 

to  make  it  complete/'  observed  Miss  Pat,  as  we  stole  in 
and  out  among  the  gathering  fleet.  And  then,  as  though 
in  answer,  a  launch  passed  near,  leaving  a  trail  of  mur 
murous  chords  behind — the  mournful  throb  of  the 
guitar,  the  resonant  beat  of  banjo  strings.  Nothing  can 
be  so  soothing  to  the  troubled  spirit  as  music  over  water, 
and  I  watched  with  delight  Miss  Pat's  deep  absorption 
in  all  the  sights  and  sounds  of  the  lake.  We  drifted  past 
a  sail-boat  idling  with  windless  sails,  its  mast  trimmed 
with  lanterns,  and  every  light  multiplying  itself  in  the 
quiet  water.  Many  and  strange  craft  appeared — farm 
folk  and  fishermen  in  clumsy  rowboats  and  summer 
colonists  in  launches,  skiffs  and  canoes,  appeared  from  all 
directions  to  watch  the  parade. 

The  assembling  canoes  flashed  out  of  the  dark  like 
fireflies.  Not  even  the  spirits  that  tread  the  air  come 
and  go  more  magically  than  the  canoe  that  is  wielded  by 
a  trained  hand.  The  touch  of  the  skilled  paddler  be 
comes  but  a  caress  of  the  water.  To  have  stolen  across 
Saranac  by  moonlight;  to  have  paddled  the  devious 
course  of  the  York  or  Kennebunk  when  the  sea  steals 
inland  for  rest,  or  to  dip  up  stars  in  lovely  Annandale — 
of  such  experiences  is  knowledge  born ! 

I  took  care  that  we  kept  well  to  ourselves,  for  Miss 


THE    CARNIVAL    OF    CANOES          177 

Pat  turned  nervously  whenever  a  boat  crept  too  near. 
Ijima,  understanding  without  being  told,  held  the  power 
well  in  hand.  I  had  scanned  the  lake  at  sundown  for 
signs  of  the  Stiletto,  but  it  had  not  ventured  from  the 
lower  lake  all  day,  and  there  was  scarce  enough  air  stir 
ring  to  ruffle  the  water. 

"We  can  award  the  prize  for  ourselves  here  at  the 
turn  of  the  loop,"  I  remarked,  as  we  swung  into  place 
and  paused  at  a  point  about  a  mile  off  Glenarm.  "Here 
comes  the  flotilla !" 

"The  music  is  almost  an  impertinence,  lovely  as  it  is. 
The  real  song  of  the  canoe  is  'dip  and  glide,  dip  and 
glide/  "  said  Miss  Pat. 

The  loop  once  made,  we  now  looked  upon  a  double  line 
whose  bright  confusion  added  to  the  picture.  The  canoe 
offers,  when  you  think  of  it,  little  chance  for  the  deco 
rator,  its  lines  are  so  trim  and  so  founded  upon  rigid 
simplicity ;  but  many  zealous  hands  had  labored  for  the 
magic  of  this  hour.  Slim  masts  supported  lanterns  in 
many  and  charming  combinations,  and  suddenly,  as 
though  the  toy  lamps  had  taken  wing,  rockets  flung  up 
their  stars  and  roman  candles  their  golden  showers  at  a 
dozen  points  of  the  line  and  broadened  the  scope  of  the 
picture.  A  scow  placed  midway  of  the  loop  now  lighted 


178  EOSALIND   AT    EED    GATE 

the  lake  with  red  and  green  fire.  The  bright,  graceful 
argosies  slipped  by,  like  beads  upon  a  rosary.  When  the 
last  canoe  had  passed,  Miss  Pat  turned  to  me,  sighing 
softly : 

"It  was  too  pretty  to  last;  it  was  a  page  out  of  the 
book  of  lost  youth/' 

I  laughed  back  at  her  and  signaled  Ijima  to  go  ahead 
and  then,  as  the  water  churned  and  foamed  and  I  took 
the  wheel,  we  were  startled  by  an  exclamation  from  some 
one  in  a  rowboat  near  at  hand.  The  last  of  the  peaceful 
armada  had  passed,  but  now  from  the  center  of  the  lake, 
unobserved  and  unheralded,  stole  a  canoe  fitted  with 
slim  masts  carried  high  from  bow  to  stern  with  delight 
ful  daring.  The  lights  were  set  in  globes  of  green  and 
gold,  and  high  over  all,  its  support  quite  invisible,  shone 
a  golden  star  that  seemed  to  hover  and  follow  the  shad 
owy  canoe. 

We  all  watched  the  canoe  intently;  and  my  eyes  now 
fell  upon  the  figure  of  the  skipper  of  this  fairy  craft, 
who  was  set  forth  in  clear  relief  against  the  red  fire  be* 
yond.  The  sole  occupant  of  the  canoe  was  a  girl — there 
was  no  debating  it;  she  flashed  by  within  a  paddle's 
length  of  us,  and  I  heard  the  low  bubble  of  water  under 
her  blade.  She  paddled  kneeling,  Indian  fashion,  and 


THE    CAENIVAL   OF    CANOES  179 

was  lessening  the  breach  between  herself  and  the  last 
canoe  of  the  orderly  line,  which  now  swept  on  toward  the 
casino. 

"That's  the  prettiest  one  of  all — "  began  Miss  Pat, 
then  ceased  abruptly.  She  bent  forward,  half  rising  and 
gazing  intently  at  the  canoe.  What  she  saw  and  what  I 
saw  was  Helen  Holbrook  plying  the  paddle  with  prac 
tised  stroke ;  and  as  she  passed  she  glanced  aloft  to  make 
sure  that  her  slender  mast  of  lights  was  unshaken ;  and 
then  she  was  gone,  her  star  twinkling  upon  us  bewilder- 
ingly.  I  waited  for  Miss  Pat  to  speak,  but  she  did  not 
turn  her  head  until  the  canoe  itself  had  vanished  and 
only  its  gliding  star  marked  it  from  the  starry  sisterhood 
above. 

An  exclamation  faltered  on  my  lips. 

"It  was — it  was  like — it  was — " 

"I  believe  we  had  better  go  now,"  said  Miss  Pat  softly, 
and,  I  thought,  a  little  brokenly. 

But  we  still  followed  the  star  with  our  eyes,  and  we 
saw  it  gain  the  end  of  the  procession,  sweep  on  at  its 
own  pace,  past  the  casino,  and  then  turn  abruptly  and 
drive  straight  for  Glenarm  pier.  It  was  now  between  us 
and  our  own  shore.  It  shone  a  moment  against  our  pier 
lights;  then  the  star  and  the  fairy  lanterns  beneath  it 


180  ROSALIND    AT    RED    GATE 

vanished  one  after  another  and  the  canoe  disappeared 
as  utterly  as  though  it  had  never  been. 

I  purposely  steered  a  zigzag  course  back  to  St.  Aga 
tha's.  Since  Helen  had  seen  fit  to  play  this  trick  upon 
her  aunt  I  wished  to  give  her  ample  time  to  dispose  of 
her  canoe  and  return  to  the  school.  If  we  had  been  struck 
by  a  mere  resemblance,  why  did  the  canoeist  not  go  on 
to  the  casino  and  enjoy  the  fruits  of  her  victory  ?  I  tried 
to  imagine  Gillespie  a  party  to  the  escapade,  but  I  could 
not  fit  him  into  it.  Meanwhile  I  babbled  on  with  Miss 
Pat.  An  occasional  rocket  still  broke  with  a  golden 
shower  over  the  lake,  and  she  now  discussed  the  carnival 
and  declared  the  gondola  inferior  for  grace  to  the  Amer 
ican  canoe.  Her  phrases  were,  however,  a  trifle  stiff  and 
not  in  her  usual  light  manner. 

I  walked  with  her  from  the  pier  to  St.  Agatha's. 

Sister  Margaret,  who  had  observed  the  procession 
from  an  upper  window,  threw  open  the  door  for  us. 

"Plow  is  Helen?"  asked  Miss  Pat  at  once. 

"She  is  very  comfortable,"  replied  the  Sister.  "I  went 
up  only  a  moment  ago  to  see  if  she  wanted  anything." 

Miss  Pat  turned  and  gave  me  her  hand  in  her  pretty 
fashion. 

"You  see,  it  could  not  have  been — it  was  not — Helen ; 


THE    CARNIVAL    OF    CANOES  181 

our  eyes  deceived  us !  Thank  you  very  much,  Mr.  Dono 
van  !" 

There  was  no  mistaking  her  relief;  she  smiled  upon 
me  beamingly  as  I  stood  before  her  at  the  door. 

"Of  course !  On  a  fete  night  one  can  never  trust  one's 
eyes  \" 

"But  it  was  all  bewilderingly  beautiful.  You  are 
most  compassionate  toward  a  poor  old  woman  in  exile, 
Mr.  Donovan.  I  must  go  up  to  Helen  and  make  her 
sorry  for  all  she  has  missed." 

I  went  back  to  the  launch  and  sought  far  and  near 
upon  the  lake  for  the  canoe  with  the  single  star.  I 
wanted  to  see  again  the  face  that  was  uplifted  in  the 
flood  of  colored  light — the  head,  the  erect  shoulders,  the 
arms  that  drove  the  blade  so  easily  and  certainly;  for 
if  it  was  not  Helen  Holbrook  it  was  her  shadow  that  the 
gods  had  sent  to  mock  me  upon  the  face  of  the  waters. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  MELANCHOLY   OF  MR.   GILLESPIE 

I  have  neither  the  scholar's  melancholy,  which  is  emula 
tion;  nor  the  musician's,  which  is  fantastical;  nor  the 
courtier's,  which  is  proud;  nor  the  soldier's,  which  is  am 
bitious;  nor  the  lawyer's,  which  is  politic;  nor  the  lady's, 
which  is  nice;  nor  the  lover's,  which  is  all  these:  but  it  is 
a  melancholy  of  mine  own,  compounded  of  many  simples, 
extracted  from  many  objects;  and  indeed  the  sundry  con 
templation  of  my  travels,  in  which  my  often  rumination 
wraps  me  in  a  most  humorous  sadness. 

—As  You  Like  It. 

I  laughed  a  moment  ago  when,  in  looking  over  my 
notes  of  these  affairs,  I  marked  the  swift  transition 
from  those  peaceful  days  to  others  of  renewed  suspicions 
and  strange  events.  I  had  begun  to  yield  myself  to 
blandishments  and  to  feel  that  there  could  be  no  further 
interruption  of  the  idyllic  hours  I  was  spending  in  Helen 
Holbrook's  company.  I  still  maintained,  to  be  sure,  the 
guard  as  it  had  been  established;  and  many  pipes  I 
smoked  on  St.  Agatha's  pier,  in  the  fond  belief  that  I 
was  merely  fulfilling  my  office  as  protector  of  Miss  Pat, 
whereas  I  had  reached  a  point  where  the  very  walls  that 

182 


MELANCHOLY    GILLESPIE  183 

held  Helen  Holbrook  were  of  such  stuff  as  dreams  are 
made  of.  My  days  were  keyed  to  a  mood  that  was  im 
patient  of  questions  and  intolerant  of  doubts.  I  was 
glad  to  take  the  hours  as  they  came,  so  long  as  they 
brought  her.  I  did  not  refer  to  her  appearance  in  the 
parade  of  canoes,  nor  did  Miss  Pat  mention  it  to  me 
again.  It  was  a  part  of  the  summer's  enchantment.,  and 
it  was  not  for  me  to  knock  at  doors  to  which  Helen 
Holbrook  held  the  golden  keys. 

The  only  lingering  blot  in  the  bright  calendar  of  those 
days  was  her  meeting  with  Gillespie  on  the  pier,  and  the 
fact  that  she  had  accepted  money  from  him  for  her  ras 
cally  father.  But  even  this  I  excused.  It  was  no  easy  thing 
for  a  girl  of  her  high  spirits  to  be  placed  in  a  position 
of  antagonism  to  her  own  father;  and  as  for  Gillespie, 
he  was  at  least  a  friend,  abundantly  able  to  help  her  in 
her  difficult  position;  and  if,  through  his  aid,  she  had 
been  able  to  get  rid  of  her  father,  the  end  had  certainly 
justified  the  means.  I  reasoned  that  an  educated  man 
of  good  antecedents  who  was  desperate  enough  to  at 
tempt  murder  for  profit  in  this  enlightened  twentieth 
century  was  cheaply  got  rid  of  at  any  price,  and  it  was 
extremely  decent  of  Gillespie — so  I  argued — to  have 
fcaken  himself  away  after  providing  the  means  of  the 


184  KOSALIND   AT    KED    GATE 

girl's  release.  I  persuaded  myself  eloquently  on  these 
lines  while  I  exhausted  the  resources  of  Glenarm  in  pro 
viding  entertainment  for  both  ladies.  There  had  been 
other  breakfasts  on  the  terrace  at  Glenarm,  and  tea  al 
most  every  day  in  the  shadow  of  St.  Agatha's,  and  one 
dinner  of  state  in  the  great  Glenarm  dining-room ;  but 
more  blessed  were  those  hours  in  which  we  rode,  Helen 
and  I,  through  the  sunset  into  dusk,  or  drove  a  canoe 
over  the  quiet  lake  by  night.  Miss  Pat,  I  felt  sure, 
in  so  often  leaving  me  alone  with  Helen,  was  favoring 
my  attentions;  and  thus  the  days  passed,  like  bubbles 
on  flowing  water. 

She  was  in  my  thoughts  as  I  rode  into  Annandale  to 
post  some  letters,  and  I  was  about  to  remount  at  the  post- 
office  door  when  I  saw  a  crowd  gathered  in  front  of  the 
village  inn  and  walked  along  the  street  to  learn  the 
cause  of  it.  And  there,  calmly  seated  on  a  soap-box,  was 
Gillespie,  clad  in  amazing  checks,  engaged  in  the  de 
lectable  occupation  of  teaching  a  stray  village  mongrel 
to  jump  a  stick.  The  loungers  seemed  highly  enter 
tained,  and  testified  their  appreciation  in  loud  guffaws. 
I  watched  the  performance  for  several  minutes,  Gillespie 
meanwhile  laboring  patiently  with  the  dull  dog,  until 
finally  it  leaped  the  stick  amid  the  applause  of  the 


MELANCHOLY    GILLESPIE  185 

crowd.  Gillespie  patted  the  dog  and  rose,  bowing  with 
exaggerated  gravity. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "I  thank  you  for  your  kind  at 
tention.  Let  my  slight  success  with  that  poor  cur  teach 
you  the  lesson  that  we  may  turn  the  idlest  moment  to 
some  noble  use.  The  education  of  the  lower  animals  is 
something  to  which  too  little  attention  is  paid  by  those 
who,  through  the  processes  of  evolution,  have  risen  to  a 
higher  species.  I  am  grateful,  gentlemen,  for  your  for 
bearance,  and  trust  we  may  meet  again  under  circum 
stances  more  creditable  to  us  all — including  the  dog." 

The  crowd  turned  away  mystified,  while  Gillespie, 
feeling  in  his  pocket  for  his  pipe,  caught  my  eye  and 
winked. 

"Ah,  Donovan,"  he  said  coolly,  "and  so  you  were 
among  the  admiring  spectators.  I  hope  you  have  formed 
a  high  opinion  of  my  skill  as  a  dog  trainer.  Once,  I 
would  have  you  know,  I  taught  a  Plymouth  Eock  rooster 
to  turn  a  summersault.  Are  you  quite  alone  ?" 

"You  seem  to  be  as  big  a  fool  as  ever !"  I  grumbled  in 
disgust,  vexed  at  finding  him  in  the  neighborhood. 

"Gallantly  spoken,  my  dear  fellow !  You  are  an  honor 
to  the  Irish  race  and  mankind.  Our  meeting,  however, 
is  not  inopportune,  as  they  say  in  books ;  and  I  would 


186  ROSALIND   AT    RED    GATE 

have  speech  with  you,  gentle  knight.  The  inn,  though 
humble,  is  still  not  without  decent  comforts.  Will  you 
honor  me?" 

He  turned  abruptly  and  led  the  way  through  the  office 
and  up  the  stairway,  babbling  nonsense  less  for  my  en 
tertainment,  I  imagined,  than  for  the  befuddlement  of 
the  landlord,  who  leaned  heavily  upon  his  scant  desk 
and  watched  our  ascent. 

He  opened  a  door,  and  lighted  several  oil  lamps,  which 
disclosed  three  connecting  rooms. 

"You  see,  I  got  tired  of  living  in  the  woods,  and  the 
farmer  I  boarded  with  did  not  understand  my  complex 
character.  The  absurd  fellow  thought  me  insane — can 
you  imagine  it  ?" 

"It's  a  pity  he  didn't  turn  you  over  to  the  sheriff,"  I 
growled. 

"Generously  spoken !  But  I  came  here  and  hired  most 
of  this  inn  to  be  near  the  telegraph  office.  Though  as 
big  a  fool  as  you  care  to  call  me  I  nevertheless  look  to 
my  buttons.  The  hook-and-eye  people  are  formidable 
competitors,  and  the  button  may  in  time  become  obso 
lete — stranger  things  have  happened.  I  keep  in  touch 
with  our  main  office,  and  when  I  don't  feel  very  good 
I  fire  somebody.  Only  this  morning  I  bounced  our  gen- 


MELANCHOLY    GILLESPIE  187 

eral  manager  by  wire  for  sending  ine  a  letter  in  purple 
type-writing;  I  had  warned  him,  you  understand,  that 
he  was  to  write  to  me  in  black.  But  it  was  only  a  matter 
of  time  with  that  fellow.  He  entered  a  bull  pup  against 
mine  in  the  Westchester  Bench  Show  last  spring  and 
took  the  ribbon  away  from  nie.  I  really  couldn't  stand 
for  that.  In  spite  of  my  glassy  splash  in  the  asparagus 
bed,  I'm  a  man  who  looks  to  his  dignity,  Donovan.  Will 
you  smoke?" 

I  lighted  my  pipe  and  encouraged  him  to  go  on. 

"How  long  have  you  been  in  this  bake-oven  ?" 

"I  moved  in  this  morning — you  are  my  first  pilgrim. 
I  have  spent  the  long  hot  day  in  getting  settled.  I  had 
to  throw  out  the  furniture  and  buy  new  stuff  of  the 
local  emporium,  where,  it  depressed  me  to  learn,  furni 
ture  for  the  dead  is  supplied  even  as  for  the  living. 
That  chair,  which  I  beg  you  to  accept,  stood  next  in  the 
shop  to  a  coffin  suitable  for  a  carcass  of  about  your  build, 
old  man.  But  don't  let  the  suggestion  annoy  you!  I 
read  your  book  on  tiger  hunting  a  few  years  ago  with 
pleasure,  and  I'm  sure  you  enjoy  a  charmed  life. 

"I  myself,"  he  continued,  taking  a  chair  near  me  and 
placing  his  feet  in  an  open  window,  "am  cursed  with 
rugged  health.  I  have  quite  recovered  from  those  unkind 


188  ROSALIND    AT    EED    GATE 

cuts  at  the  nunnery — thanks  to  your  ministrations — and 
am  willing  to  put  on  the  gloves  with  you  at  any  time/' 

"You  do  me  great  honor;  but  the  affair  must  wait 
for  a  lower  temperature." 

"As  you  will !  It  is  not  like  my  great  and  gracious 
ways  to  force  a  fight.  Pardon  me,  but  may  I  inquire  for 
the  health  of  the  ladies  at  Saint  What's-her- 
name's?" 

"They  are  quite  well,  thank  you." 

"I  am  glad  to  know  it;" — and  his  tone  lost  for  the 
moment  its  jauntiness.  "Henry  Holbrook  has  gone  to 
New  York." 

"Good  riddance !"  I  exclaimed  heartily.  "And  now — " 

" — And  now  if  I  would  only  follow  suit,  everything 
would  be  joy  plus  for  you  \" 

He  laughed  and  slapped  his  knees  at  my  discomfiture, 
for  he  had  read  my  thoughts  exactly. 

"You  certainly  are  the  only  blot  on  the  landscape  I" 

"Quite  so.  And  if  I  would  only  go  hence  the  pretty  lit 
tle  idyl  that  is  being  enacted  in  the  delightful  garden, 
under  the  eye  of  a  friendly  chaperon,  would  go  forward 
without  interruption." 

He  spoke  soberly,  and  I  had  observed  that  when  he 
dropped  his  chaff  a  note  of  melancholy  crept  into  his 


MELANCHOLY    GILLESPIE  189 

talk.  He  folded  his  arms  and  went  on :  "She's  a  wonder 
ful  girl,  Donovan.  There's  no  other  girl  like  her  in  all 
the  wide  world.  I  tell  you  it's  hard  for  a  girl  like  that  to 
be  in  her  position — the  whole  family  broken  up,  and  that 
contemptible  father  of  hers  hanging  about  with  his 
schemes  of  plunder.  It's  pitiful,  Donovan ;  it's  pitiful !" 

"It's  a  cheerless  mess.  It  all  came  after  the  bank 
failure,  I  suppose." 

"Practically,  though  the  brothers  never  got  on.  You 
see  my  governor  was  bit  by  their  bank  failure;  and 
Miss  Pat  resented  the  fact  that  he  backed  off  when 
stung.  But  the  Gillespies  take  their  medicine;  father 
never  squealed,  which  makes  me  sore  that  your  Aunt 
Pat  gives  me  the  icy  eye." 

"Their  affairs  are  certainly  mixed,"  I  remarked  non- 
committally. 

"They  are  indeed ;  and  I  have  studied  the  whole  busi 
ness  until  my  near  mind  is  mussed  up,  like  scrambled 
eggs.  Your  own  pretty  idyl  of  the  nunnery  garden  adds 
the  note  piqwnte.  Cross  my  palm  with  gold  and  I'll 
tell  you  of  strange  things  that  lie  in  the  future.  I  have 
an  idea,  Donovan;  singular  though  it  seem,  I've  a  no 
tion  in  my  head." 

"Keep  it,"  I  retorted,  "to  prevent  a  cranial  vacuum." 


190  ROSALIND   AT    RED    GATE 

"Crushed  !  Absolutely  crushed !"  he  replied  gloomily. 
"Kick  me.  I'm  only  the  host." 

We  were  silent  while  the  few  sounds  of  the  village 
street  droned  in.  He  rose  and  paced  the  floor  to  shake 
off  his  mood,  and  when  he  sat  down  he  seemed  in  better 
spirits. 

"Holbrook  will  undoubtedly  return,"  I  said. 

"Yes ;  there's  no  manner  of  doubt  about  that." 

"And  then  there  will  be  more  trouble." 

"Of  course." 

"But  I  suppose  there's  no  guessing  when  he  will 
come  back." 

"He  will  come  back  as  soon  as  he's  spent  his  money." 

I  felt  a  delicacy  about  referring  to  that  transaction 
on  the  pier.  It  was  a  wretched  business,  and  I  now 
realized  that  the  shame  of  it  was  not  lost  on  Gillespie. 

"How  does  Henry  come  to  have  that  Italian  scoun 
drel  with  him  ?"  I  asked  after  a  pause. 

"He's  the  skipper  of  the  Stiletto/'  Gillespie  replied 
readily. 

"He's  a  long  way  from  tide-water,"  I  remarked.  "A 
blackguard  of  just  his  sort  once  sailed  me  around  the 
Italian  peninsula  in  a  felucca,  and  saved  me  from 
drowning  on  the  way.  His  heroism  was  not,  however, 


MELANCHOLY    GILLESPIE  191 

wholly  disinterested.  When  we  got  back  to  Naples  he 
robbed  me  of  my  watch  and  money-belt  and  I  profited 
by  the  transaction,  having  intended  to  give  him  double 
their  value.  But  there  are  plenty  of  farm-boys  around 
the  lake  who  could  handle  the  Stiletto.  Henry  didn't 
need  a  dago  expert." 

The  mention  of  the  Italian  clearly  troubled  Gillespie. 
After  a  moment  he  said  : 

"He  may  be  holding  on  to  Henry  instead  of  Henry's 
holding  on  to  him.  Do  you  see  ?" 

"No;  I  don't." 

"Well,  I  have  an  idea,  that  the  dago  knows  something 
that's  valuable.  Last  summer  Henry  went  cruising  in 
the  Sound  with  a  pretty  rotten  crowd,  poker  being  the 
chief  diversion.  A  man  died  on  the  boat  before  they  got 
back  to  New  York.  The  report  was  that  he  fell  down  a 
hatchway  when  he  was  drunk,  but  there  were  some  ugly 
stories  in  the  papers  about  it.  That  Italian  sailor  was 
one  of  the  crew." 

"Where  is  he  now?" 

"Over  at  Battle  Orchard.  He  knows  his  man  and 
knows  he'll  be  back.  I'm  waiting  for  Henry,  too.  Helen 
gave  him  twenty  thousand  dollars.  The  way  the  market 
is  running  he's  likely  to  go  broke  any  day.  He  plays 


192  EOSALIND    AT    RED    GATE 

stocks  like  a  crazy  man,  and  after  he's  busted  he'll  be 
back  on  our  hands." 

"It's  hard  on  Miss  Pat." 

"And  it's  harder  on  Helen.  She's  in  terror  all  the 
time  for  fear  her  father  will  go  up  against  the  law  and 
bring  further  disgrace  on  the  family.  There's  her  Un 
cle  Arthur,  a  wanderer  on  the  face  of  the  earth  for  Ms 
sins.  That  was  bad  enough  without  the  rest  of  it." 

"That  was  greed,  too,  wasn't  it?" 

"No,  just  general  cussedness.  He  blew  in  the  Holbrook 
bank  and  skipped." 

These  facts  I  had  gathered  before,  but  they  seemed 
of  darker  significance  now,  as  we  spoke  of  them  in  the 
dimly  lighted  room  of  the  squalid  inn.  I  recalled  a  cir 
cumstance  that  had  bothered  me  earlier,  but  which  I  had 
never  satisfactorily  explained,  and  I  determined  to  sound 
Gillespie  in  regard  to  it. 

"You  told  me  that  Henry  Holbrook  found  his  way 
here  ahead  of  you.  How  do  you  account  for  that  ?" 

He  looked  at  me  quickly.,  and  rose,  again  pacing  the 
narrow  room. 

"I  don't!  I  wish  I  could!" 

"It's  about  the  last  place  in  the  world  to  attract  him. 
Port  Annandale  is  a  quiet  resort  frequented  by  western 


MELANCHOLY    GILLESPIE  193 

people  only.  There's  neither  hunting  nor  fishing  worth 
mentioning;  and  a  man  doesn't  come  from  New  York 
to  Indiana  to  sail  a  boat  on  a  thimbleful  of  water  like 
this  lake." 

"You  are  quite  right." 

"If  Helen  Holbrook  gave  him  warning  that  they  were 
coming  here — " 

He  wheeled  on  me  fiercely,  and  laid  his  hand  roughly 
on  my  shoulder. 

<T)on't  you  dare  say  it !  She  couldn't  have  done  it ! 
She  wouldn't  have  done  it!  I  tell  you  I  know,  inde 
pendently  of  her,  that  he  was  here  before  Father  Stod- 
dard  ever  suggested  this  place  to  Miss  Pat." 

"Well,  you  needn't  get  so  hot  about  it." 

"And  you  needn't  insinuate  that  she  is  not  acting 
honorably  in  this  affair !  I  should  think  that  after  mak 
ing  love  to  her,  as  you  have  been  doing,  and  playing  the 
role  of  comforter  to  Miss  Pat,  you  would  have  the  de 
cency  not  to  accuse  her  of  connivance  with  Henry  Hol 
brook." 

"You  let  your  jealousy  get  the  better  of  your  good 
sense.  I  have  not  been  making  love  to  Miss  Holbrook !" 
I  declared  angrily  and  knew  in  my  heart  that  I  lied. 

"Well,  Irishman,"  he  exclaimed  with  entire  good 


194  EOSALIND   AT    EED    GATE 

humor;  "let  us  not  bring  up  mine  hcst  to  find  us  locked 
in  mortal  combat." 

"What  the  devil  did  you  bring  me  up  here  for?"  I 
demanded. 

"Oh,  just  to  enjoy  your  society.  I  get  lonesome  some 
times.  I  tell  you  a  man  does  get  lonesome  in  this  world, 
when  he  has  nothing  to  lean  on  but  a  blooming  button 
factory  and  a  stepmother  who  flits  among  the  world's 
expensive  sanatoria.  I  know  you  have  never  had  'But 
ton,  button,  who's  got  the  button  ?'  chanted  in  your  ears, 
but  may  I  ask  whether  you  have  ever  known  the  joy  of 
a  stepmother?  I  can  see  that  your  answer  will  be  an 
unregretful  negative." 

He  was  quite  the  fool  again,  and  stared  at  me  vacu 
ously. 

"My  stepmother  is  not  the  common  type  of  juvenile 
fiction.  She  has  never  attempted  during  her  widowhood 
to  rob  the  orphan  or  to  poison  him.  Bless  your  Irish 
heart,  no!  She's  a  good  woman,  and  rich  in  her  own 
right,  but  I  couldn't  stand  her  dietary.  She's  afraid  I'm 
going  to  die,  Donovan!  She  thinks  everybody's  going 
to  die.  Father  died  of  pneumonia  and  she  said  ice-water 
in  the  finger-bowl  did  it,  and  she  wanted  to  have  the 
Futler  arrested  for  murder.  She  had  a  new  disease  for 


MELANCHOLY    GILLESPIE  195 

me  every  morning.  It  was  worse  than  being  left  with  a 
button-works  to  draw  a  stepmother  like  that.  She  ate 
nothing  but  hot  water  and  zweibach  herself,  and  shud 
dered  when  I  demanded  sausage  and  buckwheat  cakes 
every  day.  She  wept  and  talked  of  the  duty  she  owed 
to  my  poor  dead  father ;  she  had  promised  him,  she  said, 
to  safeguard  my  health;  and  there  I  was,  as  strong  as 
an  infant  industry,  weighed  a  hundred  and  seventy-six 
pounds  when  I  was  eighteen,  and  had  broken  all  the 
prep  school  records.  She  made  me  so  nervous  talking 
about  her  symptoms,  and  mine — that  I  didn't  have! — 
that  I  began  taking  my  real  meals  in  the  gardener's 
house.  But  to  save  her  feelings  I  munched  a  little  toast 
with  her.  She  caught  me  one  day  clearing  up  a  couple 
of  chickens  and  a  mug  of  bass  with  the  gardener,  and  it 
was  all  over.  She  had  noticed,  she  said,  that  I  had  been 
coughing  of  late — I  was  doing  a,  few  cigarettes  too  man}7', 
that  was  all — and  wired  to  New  York  for  doctors.  She 
had  all  sorts,  Donovan — alienists  and  pneumogastric 
specialists  and  lung  experts. 

"The  people  on  Strawberry  Hill  thought  there  was  a 
medical  convention  in  town.  I  was  kidnapped  on  the 
golf  course,  where  I  was  about  to  win  the  eastern  Con 
necticut  long-drive  cup,  and  locked  up  in  a  dark  room 


196  ROSALIND    AT    EED    GATE 

at  home  for  two  days  while  they  tested  me.  They  made 
all  the  known  tests,  Donovan.  They  tested  me  for  dis 
eases  that  haven't  been  discovered  yet,  and  for  some  that 
have  been  extinct  since  the  days  of  Noah.  You  can  see 
where  that  put  me.  I  was  afraid  to  fight  or  sulk  for 
fear  the  alienists  would  send  me  to  the  madhouse.  I 
was  afraid  to  eat  for  fear  they  would  think  that  was  a 
symptom,  and  every  time  I  asked  for  food  the  tape 
worm  man  looked  intelligent  and  began  prescribing, 
while  the  rest  of  them  were  terribly  chagrined  because 
they  hadn't  scored  first.  The  only  joy  I  got  out  of  the 
rumpus  was  in  hitting  one  of  those  alienists  a  damned 
hard  clip  in  the  ribs,  and  I'm  glad  I  did  it.  He  was 
feeling  my  medulla  oblongata  at  the  moment,  and  as  I 
resent  being  man-handled  I  pasted  him  one — he  was  a 
young  chap,  and  fair  game — I  pasted  him  one,  and  then 
grabbed  a  suit-case  and  slid.  I  stole  away  in  a  clam-boat 
for  New  Haven,  and  kept  right  on  up  into  northern 
Maine,  where  I  stayed  with  the  Indians  until  my  fa 
ther's  relict  went  off  broken-hearted  to  Bad  Neuheim  to 
drink  the  waters.  And  here  I  am,  by  the  grace  of  God, 
in  perfect  health  and  in  full  control  of  the  button  market 
of  the  world." 

"You  have  undoubtedly  been  sorely  tried,"  I  said  as 


MELANCHOLY    GILLESPIE  197 

he  broke  off  mournfully.   In  spite  of  myself  I  had  been 
entertained.    He  was  undeniably  a  fellow  of  curious 
humor  and  with  unusual  experience  of  life.  He  followed 
me  to  the  street,  and  as  I  rode  away  he  called  me  back 
as  though  to  impart  something  of  moment. 
"Did  you  ever  meet  Charles  Darwin  ?" 
"He  didn't  need  me  for  proof,  Buttons." 
"I  wish  I  might  have  had  one  word  with  him.   It's  on 
my  mind  that  he  put  the  monkeys  back  too  far.     I 
should  be  happier  if  he  had  brought  them  a  little  nearer 
up  to  date.  I  should  feel  less  lonesome,  Irishman/' 
He  stopped  me  again. 

"Once  I  had  an  ambition  to  find  an  honest  man,  Don 
ovan,  but  I  gave  it  up — it's  easier  to  be  an  honest  man 
than  to  find  one.  I  give  you  peace !" 

I  had  learned  some  things  from  the  young  button 
king,  but  much  was  still  opaque  in  the  affairs  of  the 
Holbrooks.  The  Italian's  presence  assumed  a  new  sig 
nificance  from  Gillespie's  story.  He  had  been  party  to  a 
conspiracy  to  kill  Holbrook,  alias  Hartridge,  on  the 
night  of  my  adventure  at  the  house-boat,  and  I  fell  to 
wondering  who  had  been  the  shadowy  director  of  that 
enterprise — the  coward  who  had  hung  off  in  the  creek 
and  waited  for  the  evil  deed  to  be  done. 


CHAPTEE   XIII 

THE  GATE  OF   DREAMS 

And  as  I  muse  on  Helen's  face, 
Within  the  firelight's  ruddy  shine, 
Its  beauty  takes  an  olden  grace 
Like  hers  whose  fairness  was  divine; 
The  dying  embers  leap,  and  lo! 
Troy  wavers  vaguely  all  aglow, 
And  in  the  north  wind  leashed  without, 
I  hear  the  conquering  Argives'  shout; 
And  Helen  feeds  the  flames  as  long  ago! 

— Edward  A.  U.  Valentine. 

In  my  heart  I  was  anxious  to  do  justice  to  Gillespie. 
Sad  it  is  that  we  are  all  so  given  to  passing  solemn  judg 
ment  on  trifling  testimony !  I  myself  am  not  impeccable. 
I  should  at  any  time  give  to  the  lions  a  man  who  uses 
his  thumb  as  a  paper-cutter;  for  such  a  one  is  clearly 
marked  for  brutality.  Spats  I  always  associate  with 
vanity  and  a  delicate  constitution.  A  man  who  does 
not  know  the  art  of  nursing  a  pipe's  fire,  but  who  has 
constant  recourse  to  the  match-box,  should  be  denied 
benefit  of  clergy  and  the  consolations  of  religion  and 
tobacco.  A  woman  who  is  so  far  above  the  vanities  of 

198 


THE    GATE    OF   DREAMS  199 

this  world  that  she  can  put  on  her  hat  without  the  aid  of 
the  mirror  is  either  reckless  or  slouchy — both,  unbecom 
ing  enough — or  else  of  an  humility  that  is  neither  ad 
mirable  nor  desirable.  My  prejudices  rally  as  to  a 
trumpet-call  at  the  sight  of  a  girl  wearing  overshoes  or 
nibbling  bonbons — the  one  suggestive  of  predatory 
habits  and  weak  lungs,  the  other  of  nervous  dyspepsia. 

The  night  was  fine,  and  after  returning  my  horse  to 
the  stable  I  continued  on  to  the  Glenarm  boat-house.  I 
was  strolling  along,  pipe  in  mouth,  and  was  half-way  up 
the  boat-house  steps,  when  a  woman  shrank  away  from 
the  veranda  rail,  where  she  had  been  standing,  gazing 
out  upon  the  lake.  There  was  no  mistaking  her.  She 
was  not  even  disguised  to-night,  and  as  I  advanced 
across  the  little  veranda  she  turned  toward  me.  The 
lantern  over  the  boat-house  door  suffused  us  both  as  I 
greeted  her. 

"Pardon  me,  Miss  Holbrook;  I'm  afraid  I  have  dis 
turbed  your  meditations/''  I  said.  "But  if  you  don't 
mind—5' 

"You  have  the  advantage  of  being  on  your  own 
ground,"  she  replied. 

"I  waive  all  my  rights  as  tenant  if  you  will  remain." 

"It  is  much  nicer  here  than  on  St.  Agatha's  pier ;  you 


200  ROSALIND    AT    RED    GATE 

can  see  the  lake  and  the  stars  better.  On  the  whole/'  she 
laughed,  "I  think  I  shall  stay  a  moment  longer,  if  you 
will  tolerate  me." 

I  brought  out  some  chairs  and  we  sat  down  by  the  rail, 
where  we  could  look  out  upon  the  star-sown  heavens  and 
the  dark  floor  of  stars  beneath.  The  pier  lights  shone 
far  and  near  like  twinkling  jewels,  and  in  the  tense 
silence  sounds  floated  from  far  across  the  water.  A 
canoeing  party  drifted  idly  by,  with  a  faint,  listless 
splash  of  paddles,  while  a  deep-voiced  boy  sang,  I  rise 
from  dreams  of  thee.  A  moment  later  the  last  bars  stole 
softly  across  to  us,  vague  and  shadowy,  as  though  from 
the  heart  of  night  itself. 

Helen  bent  forward  with  her  elbows  resting  on  the  rail, 
her  hands  clasped  under  her  chin.  The  lamplight  fell 
full  upon  her  slightly  lifted  head,  and  upon  her  shoul 
ders,  over  which  lay  a  filmy  veil.  She  hummed  the 
boy's  song  dreamily  for  a  moment  while  I  watched  her. 
Had  she  one  mood  for  the  day  and  another  for  the 
night  ?  I  had  last  seen  her  that  afternoon  after  ait  hour 
of  tennis,  at  which  she  was  expert,  and  she  had  run 
away  through  Glenarm  gate  with  a  taunt  for  my  de 
feat;  but  now  the  spirit  of  stars  and  of  all  earth's  silent 
things  was  upon  her.  I  looked  twice  and  thrice  at  her 


THE    GATE    OP   DEEAMS  201 

clearly  outlined  profile,  at  the  brow  with  its  point  of 
dark  hair,  at  the  hand  whereon  the  emerald  was  clearly 
distinguishable,  and  satisfied  myself  that  there  could  be 
no  mistake  about  her. 

"You  grow  bold,"  I  said,  anxious  to  hear  her  voice. 
"You  don't  mind  the  pickets  a  bit.'5 

"No.  I'm  quite  superior  to  walls  and  fences.  You 
have  heard  of  those  East  Indians  who  appear  and  disap 
pear  through  closed  doors ;  well,  we'll  assume  that  I  had 
one  of  those  fellows  for  an  ancestor!  It  will  save  the 
trouble  of  trying  to  account  for  my  exits  and  entrances. 
I  will  tell  you  in  confidence,  Mr.  Donovan,  that  I  don't 
like  to  be  obliged  to  account  for  myself  I" 

She  sat  back  in  the  chair  and  folded  her  arms.  I  had 
not  referred  in  any  way  to  her  transaction  with  Gilles- 
pie;  I  had  never  intimated  even  remotely  that  I  knew 
of  her  meeting  with  the  infatuated  young  fellow  on  St. 
Agatha's  pier;  and  I  felt  that  those  incidents  were  an 
cient  history. 

"It  was  corking  hot  this  afternoon.  I  hope  you  didn't 
have  too  much  tennis." 

"No;  it  was  pretty  enough  fun,"  she  remarked,  with 
so  little  enthusiasm  that  I  laughed. 

ffYou  don't  seem  to  recall  your  victory  with  particular 


202  KOSALIXD    AT    BED    GATE 

pleasure.  It  seems  to  me  that  I  am  the  one  to  be  shy  of 
the  subject.  How  did  that  score  stand  ?" 

"I  really  forget — I  honestly  do/'  she  laughed. 

"That's  certainly  generous;  but  don't  you  remember, 
as  we  walked  along  toward  the  gate  after  the  game,  that 
you  said — " 

"Oh,  I  can't  allow  that  at  all !  What  I  said  yesterday 
or  to-day  is  of  no  importance  now.  And  particularly  at 
night  I  am  likely  to  be  weak-minded,  and  my  memory  is 
poorer  then  than  at  any  other  time." 

"I  am  fortunate  in  having  an  excellent  memory." 

"For  example?" 

"For  example,  you  are  not  always  the  same ;  you  were 
different  this  afternoon ;  and  I  must  go  back  to  our  meet 
ing  by  the  seat  on  the  bluff,  for  the  Miss  Holbrook  of 
to-night." 

"That's  all  in  your  imagination,  Mr.  Donovan.  Now, 
if  you  wanted  to  prove  that  I'm  really — " 

"Helen  Holbrook,"  I  supplied,  glad  of  a  chance  to 
speak  her  name. 

"If  you  wanted  to  prove  that  I  am  who  I  am,"  she 
continued,  with  new  animation,  as  though  at  last  some 
thing  interested  her,  "how  should  you  go  about  it?" 

"Please  ask  me  something  difficult!    There  is,  there 


THE    GATE    OF   DREAMS  203 

could  be,  only  one  woman  as  fair,  as  interesting,  as 
wholly  charming." 

"I  suppose  that  is  the  point  at  which  you  usually  bow 
humbly  and  wait  for  applause ;  but  I  scorn  to  notice  any 
thing  so  commonplace.  If  you  were  going  to  prove  me 
to  be  the  same  person  you  met  at  the  Annandale  station, 
how  should  you  go  about  it  ?" 

"Well,  to  be  explicit,  you  walk  like  an  angel/' 

"You  are  singularly  favored  in  having  seen  angels 
walk,  Mr.  Donovan.  There's  a  popular  superstition  that 
they  fly.  In  my  own  ignorance  I  can't  concede  that  your 
point  is  well  taken.  What  next?" 

"Your  head  is  like  an  intaglio  wrought  when  men 
had  keener  vision  and  nimbler  fingers  than  now.  With 
your  hair  low  on  your  neck,  as  it  is  to-night,  the  picture 
carries  back  to  a  Venetian  balcony  centuries  ago." 

"That's  rather  below  standard.    What  else,  please  ?" 

"And  that  widow's  peak — I  would  risk  the  direst  pen 
alties  of  perjury  in  swearing  to  it  alone." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "You  are  an  observant 
person.  That  trifling  mark  on  a  woman's  forehead  is 
usually  considered  a  disfigurement." 

"But  you  know  well  enough  that  I  did  not  mention  it 
with  such  a  thought.  You  know  it  perfectly  well." 


204  KOSALIND   AT    EED    GATE 

"No;  foolish  one/5  she  said  mockingly,  "the  widow's 
peak  can  not  be  denied.  I  suppose  you  don't  know  that 
the  peak  sometimes  runs  in  families.  My  mother  had  it, 
and  her  mother  before  her." 

"You  are  not  your  mother  or  your  grandmother ;  so  I 
am  not  in  danger  of  mistaking  you." 

"Well,  what  else,  please?" 

"There's  the  emerald.  Miss  Pat  has  the  same  ring, 
but  you  are  not  Miss  Pat.  Besides,  I  have  seen  you 
both  together." 

"Still,  there  are  emeralds  and  emeralds !" 

"And  then — there  are  your  eyes !" 

"There  are  two  of  them,  Mr.  Donovan !" 

"There  need  be  no  more  to  assure  light  in  a  needful 
world,  Miss  Holbrook." 

"Good !  You  really  have  possibilities !" 

She  struck  her  palms  together  in  a  mockery  of  ap 
plause  and  laughed  at  me. 

"To  a  man  who  is  in  love  everything  is  possible,"  I 
dared. 

"The  Celtic  temperament  is  very  susceptible.  You 
have  undoubtedly  likened  many  eyes  to  the  glory  of  the 
heavens." 

"I  swear—" 


THE    GATE    OF   DEEAMS  205 

"Swear  not  at  all  I" 

"Then  I  won't!" — and  we  laughed  and  were  silent 
while  the  water  rippled  in  the  reeds,  the  insects  wove 
their  woof  of  sound  and  ten  struck  musically  from  St. 
Agatha's. 

"I  must  leave  you." 

"If  you  go  you  leave  an  empty  world  behind." 

"Oh,  that  was  pretty  I" 

"Thank  you!" 

"Conceited!  I  wasn't  approving  your  remark,  but 
that  meteor  that  flashed  across  the  sky  and  dropped  into 
the  woods  away  out  yonder." 

"Alas!  I  have  fallen  farther  than  the  meteor  and 
struck  the  earth  harder." 

"You  deserved  it,"  she  said,  rising  and  drawing  the 
veil  about  her  throat. 

"My  lack  of  conceit  has  always  been  my  undoing;  I 
am  the  humblest  man  alive.  You  are  adorable,"  I  said, 
"if  that's  the  answer." 

"It  isn't  the  answer!  If  mere  stars  do  this  to  you, 
what  would  you  be  in  moonlight  ?" 

As  we  stood  facing  each  other  I  was  aware  of  some 
new  difference  in  her.  Perhaps  her  short  outing  skirt 
of  dark  blue  had  changed  her;  and  yet  in  our  tramps 


206  ROSALIND   AT    RED    GATE 

through  the  woods  and  our  excursions  in  the  canoe  she 
had  worn  the  same  or  similar  costumes.  She  hesitated 
a  moment,  leaning  against  the  railing  and  tapping  the 
floor  with  her  boot;  then  she  said  gravely,  half  ques- 
tioningly,  as  though  to  herself : 

"He  has  gone  away;  you  are  quite  sure  that  he  has 
gone  away?" 

"Your  father  is  probably  in  New  York,"  I  answered, 
surprised  at  the  question.  "I  do  not  expect  him  back  at 
once." 

"If  he  should  come  back — "  she  began. 

"He  will  undoubtedly  return;  there  is  no  debating 
that." 

"If  he  comes  back  there  will  be  trouble,  worse  than 
anything  that  has  happened.  You  can't  understand  what 
his  return  will  mean  to  us — to  me." 

"You  must  not  worry  about  that;  you  must  trust  me 
to  take  care  of  that  when  he  comes.  'Sufficient  unto  the 
day'  must  be  your  watchword.  I  saw  Gillespie  to 
night." 

"Gillespie  ?"  she  repeated  with  unfeigned  surprise. 

"That  was  capitally  acted !"  I  laughed.  "I  wish  I 
knew  that  he  meant  nothing  more  to  you  than  that !"  I 
added  seriously. 


THE    GATE    OF   DEEAMS  207 

She  colored,  whether  with  anger  or  surprise  at  my 
swift  change  of  tone,  I  did  not  know.  Then  she  said 
very  soberly: 

"Mr.  Gillespie  is  nothing  to  me  whatever." 

"I  thank  you  for  that!" 

"Thank  -me  for  nothing,  Mr.  Donovan.  And  now 
good  night.  You  are  not  to  follow  me — " 

"Oh,  surely  to  the  gate !" 

"Not  even  to  the  gate.  My  ways  are  very  mysterious. 
By  day  I  am  one  person;  by  night  quite  another.  And 
if  you  should  follow  me — " 

"To  my  own  gate !"  I  pleaded.  "It's  only  decent  hos 
pitality  I"  I  urged. 

"Not  even  to  the  Gate  of  Dreams !" 

"But  in  trying  to  get  back  to  the  school  you  have  to 
pass  the  guards ;  you  will  fail  at  that  some  time  I" 

"No!  I  whisper  an  incantation,  and  lo!  they  fall 
asleep  upon  their  spears.  And  I  must  ask  you — " 

"Keep  asking,  for  to  ask  you  must  stay !" 

" — please,  when  I  meet  you  in  daytime  do  not  refer 
to  anything  that  we  may  say  when  we  meet  at  night. 
You  have  proved  me  at  every  point — even  to  this  spot 
of  ink  on  my  forehead,"  and  she  put  her  forefinger  upon 
the  peak.  "I  am  Helen  Holbrook ;  but  as — what  shall  I 


208  KOSALIND   AT   EED    GATE 

say? — oh,  yes!"  she  went  on  lightly — "as  a  psycholog 
ical  fact,  I  am  very  different  at  night  from  anything  I 
ever  am  in  daylight.  And  to-morrow  morning,  when 
you  meet  me  with  Aunt  Pat  in  the  garden,  if  you  should 
refer  to  this  meeting  I  shall  never  appear  to  you  again, 
not  even  through  the  Gate  of  Dreams.  Good  night !" 

"Goodnight!" 

I  clasped  her  hand  for  an  instant,  and  she  met  my 
eyes  with  a  laughing  challenge. 

"When  shall  I  see  you  again — this  you  that  is  so  dif 
ferent  from  the  you  of  daylight?" 

She  caught  her  hand  away  and  turned  to  go,  but 
paused  at  the  steps. 

"When  the  new  moon  hangs,  like  a  little  feather,  away 
out  yonder,  I  shall  be  looking  at  it  from  the  stone  seat 
on  the  bluff ;  do  you  think  you  can  remember  ?" 

She  vanished  away  into  the  wood  toward  St.  Agatha's. 
I  started  to  follow,  but  paused,  remembering  my  prom 
ise,  and  sat  down  and  yielded  myself  to  the  thought  of 
her.  Practical  questions  of  how  she  managed  to  slip 
out  of  St.  Agatha's  vexed  me  for  a  moment;  but  in  my 
elation  of  spirit  I  dismissed  them  quickly  enough.  I 
would  never  again  entertain  an  evil  thought  of  her;  the 
money  she  had  taken  from  Gillespie  I  would  in  some 


THE    GATE    OF   DREAMS  209 

way  return  to  him  and  make  an  end  of  any  claim  he 
might  assert  against  her  by  reason  of  that  help.  And  I 
resolved  to  devote  myself  diligently  to  the  business  of 
protecting  her  from  her  father.  I  was  even  impatient 
for  him  to  return  and  resume  his  blackguardly  practice 
of  intimidating  two  helpless  women,  that  I  might  deal 
with  him  in  the  spirit  of  his  own  despicable  actions. 

My  heart  was  heavy  as  I  thought  of  him,  but  I  lighted 
my  pipe  and  found  at  once  a  gentler  glory  in  the  stars. 
Then  as  I  stared  out  upon  the  lake  I  saw  a  shadow  glid 
ing  softly  away  from  the  little  promontory  where  St. 
Agatha's  pier  lights  shone  brightly.  It  was  a  canoe,  I 
should  have  known  from  its  swift  steady  flight  if  I  had 
not  seen  the  paddler's  arm  raised  once,  twice,  until 
darkness  fell  upon  the  tiny  argosy  like  a  cloak.  I  ran 
out  on  the  pier  and  stared  after  it,  but  the  silence  of  the 
lake  was  complete.  Then  I  crossed  the  strip  of  wood 
to  St.  Agatha's,  and  found  Ijima  and  the  gardener 
faithfully  patrolling  the  grounds. 

"Has  any  one  left  the  buildings  to-night  ?" 

"No  one." 

"Sister  Margaret  hasn't  been  out — or  any  one  ?" 

"No  one,  sir.    Did  you  hear  anything,  sir?" 

"Nothing,  Ijima.  Good  night." 


210  KOSALIND   AT    BED    GATE 

I  wrote  a  telegram  to  an  acquaintance  in  New  York 
who  knows  everybody,  and  asked  him  to  ascertain 
whether  Henry  Holbrook,  of  Stamford,  was  in  New 
York.  This  I  sent  to  Annandale,  and  thereafter 
watched  the  stars  from  the  terrace  until  they  slipped  into 
the  dawn,  fearful  lest  sleep  might  steal  away  my  mem 
ories  and  dreams  of  the  night. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

BATTLE  ORCHARD 

We  crossed  the  lake  from  the  south  and  about  nightfall 
came  to  the  small  island  called  Battle  Orchard,  which  is  so 
named  by  the  American  settlers  from  the  peach,  apple  and 
other  trees  planted  there  about  1740  (so  many  have  told 
me)  by  Francois  Belot,  a  French  voyageur  who  had  crossed 
from  the  Ouabache  on  his  way  from  Quebec  to  Post  Vin- 
cennes  near  the  Ohio,  and,  finding  the  beaver  plentiful, 
brought  there  his  family.  And  here  the  Indians  laid  siege 
to  him ;  and  here  he  valiantly  defended  the  ford  on  the  west 
side  of  the  little  isle  for  three  days,  killing  many  savages 
before  they  slew  him. 

— The  Relation  of  Captain  Abel  Tucker. 

When  I  called  at  St.  Agatha's  the  following  morning 
the  maid  told  me  that  Miss  Pat  was  ill  and  that  Miss 
Helen  asked  to  be  excused.  I  walked  restlessly  about 
the  grounds  until  luncheon,  thinking  Helen  might  ap 
pear;  and  later  determined  to  act  on  an  impulse,  with 
which  I  had  trifled  for  several  days,  to  seek  the  cottage 
on  the  Tippecanoe  and  satisfy  myself  of  Holbrook's  ab 
sence.  A  sharp  shower  had  cooled  the  air,  and  I  took 
the  canoe  for  greater  convenience  in  running  into  the 


212  ROSALIND   AT   BED    GATE 

shallow  creek.  I  know  nothing  comparable  to  paddling 
as  a  lifter  of  the  spirit,  and  with  my  arms  and  head 
bared  and  a  cool  breeze  at  my  back  I  was  soon  skim 
ming  along  as  buoyant  of  heart  as  the  responsive  canoe 
beneath  me.  It  was  about  four  o'clock  when  I  dipped  my 
way  into  the  farther  lake,  and  as  the  water  broadened 
before  me  at  the  little  strait  I  saw  the  Stiletto  lying 
quietly  at  anchor  off  the  eastern  shore  of  Battle  Or 
chard.  I  drew  close  to  observe  her  the  better,  but  there 
were  no  signs  of  life  on  board,  and  I  paddled  to  the 
western  side  of  the  island. 

It  had  already  occurred  to  me  that  Holbrook  might 
have  another  hiding-place  than  the  cottage  at  Red  Gate, 
where  I  had  talked  with  him,  and  the  island  seemed  a 
likely  spot  for  it.  I  ran  my  canoe  on  the  pebbly  beach 
and  climbed  the  bank.  The  island  was  covered  with  a 
tangle  of  oak  and  maple,  with  a  few  lordly  sycamores 
towering  above  all.  I  followed  a  path  that  led  through 
the  underbrush  and  was  at  once  shut  in  from  the  lake. 
The  trail  bore  upward  and  I  soon  came  upon  a  small 
clearing  about  an  acre  in  extent  that  had  once  been 
tilled,  but  it  was  now  preempted  by  weeds  as  high  as  my 
head.  Beyond  lay  an  ancient  orchard,  chiefly  of  apple- 
trees,  and  many  hoary  veterans  stood  faithful  to  the 


BATTLE    ORCHAED  213 

brave  hand  that  had  marshaled  them  there.  (Every 
orchard  is  linked  to  the  Hesperides  and  every  apple 
waits  for  Atalanta — if  not  for  Eve!)  I  stooped  to  pick 
a  wild-flower  and  found  an  arrow-head  lying  beside  it. 

Fumbling  the  arrow-head  in  my  fingers,  I  passed  on 
to  a  log  cabin  hidden  away  in  the  orchard.  It  was  evi 
dently  old.  The  mud  chinking  had  dropped  from  the 
logs  in  many  places,  and  the  stone  chimney  was  held  up 
by  a  sapling.  I  approached  warily,  remembering  that  if 
this  were  Holbrook's  camp  and  he  had  gone  away  he  had 
probably  left  the  Italian  to  look  after  the  yacht,  which 
could  be  seen  from  the  cabin  door.  I  made  a  circuit  of 
the  cabin  without  seeing  any  signs  of  habitation,  and  was 
about  to  enter  by  the  front  door,  when  I  heard  the  swish 
of  branches  in  the  underbrush  to  the  east  and  dropped 
into  the  grass. 

In  a  moment  the  Italian  appeared,  carrying  a  pair 
of  oars  over  his  shoulder.  He  had  evidently  just  landed, 
as  the  blades  were  dripping.  He  threw  them  down  by  the 
cabin  door,  came  round  to  the  western  window,  drew  out 
the  pin  from  an  iron  staple  with  which  it  was  fastened, 
and  thrust  his  head  in.  He  was  greeted  with  a  howl  and 
a  loud  demand  of  some  sort,  to  which  he  replied  in 
monosyllables,  and  after  several  minutes  of  this  parley 


ROSALIND   AT   RED    GATE 

I  caught  a  fragment  of  dialogue  which,  seemed  to  be  final 
in  the  subject  under  discussion. 

"Let  me  out  or  it  will  be  the  worse  for  you ;  let  me  out, 
I  say!" 

"My  boss  he  sometime  come  back;  then  you  get  out 
it,  maybe." 

With  this  deliverance,  accomplished  with  some  diffi 
culty,  the  Italian  turned  away,  going  to  the  rear  of  the 
cabin  for  a  pail  with  which  he  trudged  off  toward  the 
lake.  He  had  not  closed  the  window  and  would  un 
doubtedly  return  in  a  few  minutes ;  so  I  waited  until  he 
was  out  of  sight,  then  rose  and  crawled  through  the  grass 
to  the  opening. 

I  looked  in  upon  a  bare  room  whose  one  door  opened 
inward,  and  I  did  not  for  a  moment  account  for  the 
voice.  Then  something  stirred  in  the  farther  corner,  and 
I  slowly  made  out  the  figure  of  a  man  tied  hand  and 
foot,  lying  on  his  back  in  a  pile  of  grass  and  leaves. 

"You  ugly  dago !  you  infernal  pirate — "  he  bawled. 

There  was  no  mistaking  that  voice,  and  I  now  saw 
two  legs  clothed  in  white  duck  that  belonged,  I  was 
sure,  to  Gillespie.  My  head  and  shoulders  filled  the 
window  and  so  darkened  the  room  that  the  prisoner 
thought  his  jailer  had  come  back  to  torment  him. 


BATTLE    OECHAED  215 

"Shut  up,  Gillespie,"  I  muttered.  "This  is  Donovan. 
That  fellow  will  be  back  in  a  minute.  What  can  I  do 
for  you?" 

"What  can  you  do  for  me?"  he  spluttered.  "Oh,  noth 
ing,  thanks !  I  wouldn't  have  you  put  yourself  out  for 
anything  in  the  world.  It's  nice  in  here,  and  if  that  fel 
low  kills  me  I'll  miss  a  great  deal  of  the  poverty  and 
hardship  of  this  sinful  world.  But  take  your  time, 
Irishman.  Being  tied  by  the  legs  like  a  calf  is  bully 
when  you  get  used  to  it." 

In  turning  over,  the  better  to  level  his  ironies  at  me, 
he  had  stirred  up  the  dust  in  the  straw  so  that  he 
sneezed  and  coughed  in  a  ridiculous  fashion.  As  I  did 
not  move  he  added : 

"You  come  in  here  and  cut  these  strings  and  III  tell 
you  something  nice  some  day." 

I  ran  round  to  the  front  door,  kicked  it  open,  and 
passed  through  a  square  room  that  contained  a  fireplace, 
a  camp  bed,  a  trunk,  and  a  table  littered  with  old  news 
papers  and  a  few  books.  I  found  Gillespie  in  the  adjoin 
ing  room,  cut  his  thongs  and  helped  him  to  his  feet. 

tfrWnere  is  your  boat?"  he  demanded. 

"On  the  west  side." 

"Then  we're  in  for  a  scrap.   That  beggar  goes  down 


216  ROSALIND   AT   EED    GATE 

there  for  water ;  and  he'll  see  that  there's  another  man 
on  the  island.  I  had  a  gun  when  I  came/5  he  added 
mournfully. 

He  stamped  his  feet  and  threshed  himself  with  his 
arms  to  restore  circulation,  then  we  went  into  the  larger 
room,  where  he  dug  his  own  revolver  from  the  trunk 
and  pointed  to  a  shot-gun  in  the  corner. 

'TTou'd  better  get  that.  This  fellow  has  only  a  knife 
in  his  clothes.  He'll  be  back  on  the  run  when  he  sees 
your  oanoe."  And  we  heard  on  the  instant  a  man  run 
ning  toward  the  hut.  I  opened  the  breech  of  the  shot 
gun  to  see  whether  it  was  loaded. 

"Well,  how  do  you  want  to  handle  the  situation?"  I 
asked. 

He  had  his  eye  on  the  window  and  threw  up  his  re 
volver  and  let  go. 

"Your  pistol  makes  a  howling  noise,  Gillespie.  Please 
don't  do  that  again.  The  smoke  is  disagreeable." 

"You  are  quite  right;  and  shooting  through  glass  is 
always  unfortunate !  there's  bound  to  be  a,  certain  deflec 
tion  before  the  bullet  strikes.  You  see  if  I  were  not  a 
fool  I  should  be  a  philosopher." 

"It  isn't  nice  here;  we'd  better  bolt." 

"I'm  as  hungry  as  a  sea-serpent,"  he  said,  watching 


BATTLE    OECHAED  217 

the  window.  "And  I  am  quite  desperate  when  I  miss 
my  tea." 

I  stood  before  the  open  door  and  he  watched  the  win 
dow.  We  were  both  talking  to  cover  our  serious  delibera 
tions.  Our  plight  was  not  so  much  a  matter  for  jesting  as 
we  wished  to  make  it  appear  to  each  other.  I  had  ex 
perienced  one  struggle  with  the  Italian  at  the  house 
boat  on  the  Tippecanoe  and  was  not  anxious  to  get 
within  reach  of  his  knife  again.  I  did  not  know  how  he 
had  captured  Gillespie,  or  what  mischief  that  amiable 
person  had  been  engaged  in,  but  inquiries  touching  this 
matter  must  wait. 

"Are  you  ready?  We  don't  want  to  shoot  unless  we 
have  to.  Now  when  I  say  go>  jump  for  the  open." 

He  limped  a  little  from  the  cramping  of  his  legs, 
but  crossed  over  to  me  cheerfully  enough.  His  white 
trousers  were  much  the  worse  for  contact  with  the  cabin 
floor,  and  his  shirt  hung  from  his  shoulders  in  ribbons. 

"My  stomach  bids  me  haste;  I'm  going  to  eat  a  beef 
steak  two  miles  thick  if  I  ever  get  back  to  New  York. 
Are  you  waiting  ?" 

We  were  about  to  spring  through  the  outer  door, 
when  the  door  at  the  rear  flew  open  with  a  bang  and  the 
sailor  landed  on  me  with  one  leap.  I  went  down  with 


218  KOSALIND   AT   KED    GATE 

a  thump  and  a  crack  of  my  head  on  the  floor  that 
sickened  me.  The  gun  was  under  my  legs,  and  I  remem 
ber  that  my  dazed  wits  tried  to  devise  means  for  get 
ting  hold  of  it.  As  my  senses  gradually  came  round  I 
was  aware  of  a  great  conflict  about  me  and  over  me. 
Gillespie  was  engaged  in  a  hand-to-hand  struggle  with 
the  sailor  and  the  cabin  shook  with  their  strife.  The 
table  went  down  with  a  crash,  and  Gillespie  seemed  to 
be  having  the  best  of  it;  then  the  Italian  was  afoot 
again,  and  the  clenched  swaying  figures  crashed  against 
the  trunk  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room.  And  there 
they  fought  in  silence,  save  for  the  scraping  of  their 
feet  on  the  puncheon  floor.  I  felt  a  slight  nausea  from 
the  smash  my  head  had  got,  but  I  began  crawling  across 
the  floor  toward  the  struggling  men.  It  was  growing 
dark,  and  they  were  knit  together  against  the  cabin  wall 
like  a  single  monstrous,  swaying  figure. 

My  stomach  was  giving  a  better  account  of  itself,  and 
I  got  to  my  knees  and  then  to  my  feet.  I  was  within 
a  yard  of  the  wavering  shadow  and  could  distinguish 
Gillespie  by  his  white  trousers  as  he  wrenched  free 
and  flung  the  Italian  away  from  him ;  and  in  that  instant 
of  freedom  I  heard  the  dull  impact  of  Gillespie's  fist  in 
the  brute's  face.  As  the  sailor  went  down  I  threw  my- 


BATTLE    ORCHAKD  219 

self  full  length  upon  him ;  hut  for  the  moment  at  least 
he  was  out  of  business,  and  before  I  had  satisfied  my 
self  that  I  had  firmly  grasped  him,  Gillespie,  blowing 
hard,  was  kneeling  beside  me,  with  a  rope  in  his  hands. 

"I  think/'  he  panted,  "I  should  like  champignon  sauce 
with  that  steak,  Donovan.  And  I  should  like  my  pota 
toes  lyonnaise — the  pungent  onion  is  a  spurring  tonic. 
That  will  do,  thanks,  for  the  arms.  Get  off  his  legs 
and  I'll  see  what  I  can  do  for  them.  You  oughtn't 
to  have  cut  that  rope,  my  boy.  You  might  have  known 
that  we  were  going  to  need  it.  My  father  taught  me  in 
my  youth  never  to  cut  a  string.  I  want  the  pirate's 
knife  for  a  souvenir.  I  kicked  it  out  of  his  hand  when 
you  went  bumpety-bumpety.  How's  your  head?" 

"I  still  have  it.  Let's  get  you  outside  and  have  a 
look  at  you.  You  think  he  didn't  land  with  the  knife?" 

"Not  a  bit  of  it.  He  nearly  squeezed  the  life  out  of 
me  two  or  three  times,  though.  What's  that  ?" 

"He  gave  me  a  jab  with  his  sticker  when  he  made 
that  flying  leap  and  I  guess  I'm  scratched." 

Gillespie  opened  my  shirt  and  disclosed  a  scratch 
across  my  ribs  downward  from  the  left  collar  bone.  The 
first  jab  had  struck  the  bone,  but  the  subsequent  slash 
had  left  a  nasty  red  line. 


220  ROSALIND    AT    RED    GATE 

Gillespie  swore  softly  in  the  strange  phrases  that  he 
affected  while  he  tended  my  injury.  My  head  ached 
and  the  nausea  came  back  occasionally.  I  sat  down  in 
the  grass  while  Gillespie  found  the  sailor's  pail  and  went 
to  fetch  water.  He  found  some  towels  in  the  hut  and 
between  his  droll  chaffing  and  his  deft  ministrations  I 
soon  felt  fit  again. 

"Well,  what  shall  we  do  with  the  dago  ?"  he  asked,  rub 
bing  his  arms  and  legs  briskly. 

"We  ought  to  give  him  to  the  village  constable." 

"That's  the  law  of  it,  but  not  the  common  sense.  The 
lords  of  justice  would  demand  to  know  all  the  whys 
and  wherefores,  and  the  Italian  consul  at  Chicago  would 
come  down  and  make  a  fuss,  and  the  man  behind  the 
dago  would  lay  low  and  no  good  would  come." 

"When  will  Holbrook  be  back  ? — that's  the  question." 

"Well,  the  market  has  been  very  feverish  and  my 
guess  is  that  he  won't  last  many  days.  He  had  a  weak 
ness  for  Industrials,  as  I  remember,  and  they've  been 
very  groggy.  What  he  wants  is  his  million  from  Miss 
Pat,  and  he  has  his  own  chivalrous  notions  of  collecting 
it." 

We  decided  finally  to  leave  the  man  free,  but  to  take 
away  his  boat.  Gillespie  was  disposed  to  make  light  of 


I  should  like  Champignon  sauce  with  that  steak."     Page  219 


BATTLE    ORCHARD 

the  whole  affair,  now  that  we  had  got  off  with  our  lives. 
We  searched  the  hut  for  weapons  and  ammunition,,  and 
having  collected  several  knives  and  a  belt  and  revolver 
from  the  trunk,  we  poured  water  on  the  Italian,  carried 
him  into  the  open  and  loosened  the  ropes  with  which  Gil- 
lespie  had  tied  him. 

The  man  glared  at  us  fiercely  and  muttered  inco 
herently  for  a  few  minutes,  but  after  Gillespie  had 
dashed  another  pail  of  water  on  him  he  stood  up  and 
was  tame  enough. 

"Tell  him,"  said  Gillespie,  "that  we  shall  not  kill 
him  to-day.  Tell  him  that  this  being  Tuesday  we  shall 
spare  his  life — that  we  never  kill  any  one  on  Tuesday, 
but  that  we  shall  come  back  to-morrow  and  make  shark 
meat  of  him.  Assure  him  that  we  are  terrible  villains 
and  man-hunters — " 

"When  will  your  employer  return?"  I  asked  the 
sailor. 

He  shook  his  head  and  declared  that  he  did  not  know. 

"How  long  did  he  hire  you  for  ?" 

"For  all  summer."  He  pointed  to  the  sloop,  and  I 
got  it  out  of  him  that  he  had  been  hired  in  New  York 
to  come  to  the  lake  and  sail  it. 

"In  the  creek  up  yonder,"  I  said,  pointing  toward 


222  EOSALIND   AT   RED    GATE 

the  Tippecanoe,  "you  tried  to  kill  me.  There  was  another 
man  with  you.  Who  was  he?" 

"That  was  my  boss/'  he  replied  reluctantly,  though 
his  English  was  clear  enough. 

"What  is  your  employer's  name?"  I  demanded. 

"Holbrook.  I  sail  his  boat,  the  Stiletto,  over  there," 
he  replied. 

<rBut  it  was  not  he  who  was  with  you  on  the  house 
boat  in  the  creek.  Mr.  Holbrook  was  not  there.  Do  not 
lie  to  me.  Who  was  the  other  man  that  wanted  you  to 
kill  Holbrook?" 

He  appeared  mystified,  and  Gillespie,  to  whom  I  had 
told  nothing  of  my  encounter  at  the  boat-maker's,  looked 
from  one  to  the  other  of  us  with  a  puzzled  expression  on 
his  face. 

"All  he  knows  is  that  he's  hired  to  sail  a  boat  and, 
incidentally,  stick  people  with  his  knife,"  said  Gilles 
pie  in  disgust.  "We  can  do  nothing  till  Holbrook  comes 
back ;  let's  be  going." 

We  finally  gathered  up  the  Italian's  oars,  and,  carrying 
the  captured  arms,  went  to  the  east  shore,  where  we  put 
off  in  Gillespie's  rowboat,  trailing  the  Italian's  boat 
astern.  The  sailor  followed  us  to  the  shore  and  watched 
our  departure  in  silence.  We  swung  round  to  the  western 


BATTLE    OKCHAKD  223 

shore  and  got  my  canoe,  and  there  again,  the  Italian 
sullenly  watched  us. 

"He's  not  so  badly  marooned,"  said  Gillespie.  "He 
can  walk  out  over  here." 

"No,  he'll  wait  for  Holbrook.  He's  stumped  now 
and  doesn't  understand  us.  He  has  exhausted  his  orders 
and  is  sick  and  tired  of  his  job.  A  salt-water  sailor  loses 
his  snap  when  he  gets  as  far  inland  as  this.  He'll  de 
mand  his  money  when  Holbrook  turns  up  and  clear  out 
of  this." 

Gillespie  took  the  oars  himself,  insisting  that  I  must 
have  a  care  for  the  slash  across  my  chest,  and  so,  towing 
the  canoe  and  rowboat,  we  turned  toward  Glenarm.  The 
Italian  still  watched  us  from  the  shore,  standing  beside 
a  tall  sycamore  on  a  little  promontory  as  though  to 
follow  us  as  fax  as  possible. 

We  passed  close  to  the  Stiletto  to  get  a  better  look  at 
her.  She  was  the  trimmest  sailing  craft  in  those  waters, 
and  the  largest,  being,  I  should  say,  thirty-seven  feet 
on  the  water-line,  sloop-rigged,  and  with  a  cuddy  large 
enough  to  house  the  skipper.  As  we  drew  alongside  I 
stood  up  the  better  to  examine  her,  and  the  Italian, 
still  watching  us  intently  from  the  island,  cried  out 
warningly. 


224:  ROSALIND   AT   RED    GATE 

"He  should  fly  the  signal,  'Owner  not  on  board/ '' 
remarked  Gillespie  as  we  pushed  off  and  continued  on 
our  way. 

The  sun  was  low  in  the  western  wood  as  we  passed 
out  into  the  larger  lake.  Gillespie  took  soundings  with 
his  oar  in  the  connecting  channel,  and  did  not  touch 
bottom. 

"You  wouldn't  suppose  the  Stiletto  could  get  through 
here;  it's  as  shallow  as  a  sauce-pan;  but  there's 
plenty  and  to  spare,"  he  said,  as  he  resumed  row 
ing. 

"But  it  takes  a  cool  hand — "  I  began,  then  paused 
abruptly;  for  there,  several  hundred  yards  away,  a  little 
back  from  the  western  shore,  against  a  strip  of  wood 
through  which  the  sun  burned  redly,  I  saw  a  man  and  a 
woman  slowly  walking  back  and  forth.  Gillespie,  la 
boring  steadily  at  the  oars,  seemed  not  to  see  them,  and 
I  made  no  sign.  My  heart  raced  for  a  moment  as  I 
watched  them  pace  back  and  forth,  for  there  was  some 
thing  familiar  in  both  figures.  I  knew  that  I  had  seen 
them  before  and  talked  with  them;  I  would  have  sworn 
that  the  man  was  Henry  Holbrook  and  the  girl  Helen; 
and  I  was  aware  that  when  they  turned,  once,  twice, 
at  the  ends  of  their  path,  the  girl  made  some  delay ;  and 


BATTLE    ORCHARD  225 

when  they  went  on  she  was  toward  the  lake,  as  though 
shielding  the  man  from  our  observation.  The  last  sight 
I  had  of  them  the  girl  stood  with  her  back  to  us,  point 
ing  into  the  west.  Then  she  put  up  her  hand  to  her  bare 
head  as  though  catching  a  loosened  strand  of  hair ;  and 
the  wind  blew  back  her  skirts  like  those  of  the  Winged 
Victory.  The  two  were  etched  sharply  against  the  fringe 
of  wood  and  bathed  in  the  sun's  glow.  A  second  later  the 
trees  stood  there  alertly,  with  the  golden  targe  of  the 
sun  shining  like  a  giant's  shield  beyond;  but  they  had 
gone,  and  my  heart  was  numb  with  foreboding,  or  lone 
liness,  and  heavy  with  the  weight  of  things  I  did  not 
understand. 

Gillespie  tugged  hard  with  the  burden  of  the  tow 
at  his  back.  I  will  not  deny  that  I  was  uncomfortable 
as  I  thought  of  his  own  affair  with  Helen  Holbrook.  He 
had,  by  any  fair  judgment,  a  prior  claim.  Her  equivocal 
attitude  toward  him  and  her  inexplicable  conduct  toward 
her  aunt  were,  I  knew,  appearing  less  and  less  heinous 
to  me  as  the  days  passed;  and  I  was  miserably  con 
scious  that  my  own  duty  to  Miss  Patricia  lay  less  heav 
ily  upon  me. 

I  was  glad  when  we  reached  Glenarm  pier,  where  we 
found  Ijima  hanging  out  the  lamps.  He  gave  me  a  tel- 


226  ROSALIND    AT    RED    GATE 

egram.    It  was  from  my  New  York  acquaintance  and 
read : 

Holbrook  left  here  two  days  ago;  destination  unknown. 

"Come,  Gillespie;  you  are  to  dine  with  me/'  I  said, 
when  he  had  read  the  telegram;  and  so  we  went  up  to 
the  house  together. 


CHAPTEE  XV 

I  UNDERTAKE  A  COMMISSION 

Sweet  is  every  sound, 

Sweeter  thy  voice,  but  every  sound  is  sweet; 
Myriads  of  rivulets  hurrying  thro'  the  lawn, 
The  moan  of  doves  in  immemorial  elms, 
And  murmuring  of  innumerable  bees. 

— Tennyson. 

Gillespie  availed  himself  of  my  wardrobe  to  replace 
his  rags,  and  appeared  in  the  library  clothed  and  in  his 
usual  state  of  mind  on  the  stroke  of  seven. 

"You  should  have  had  the  doctor  out,  Donovan.  Be 
ing  stuck  isn't  so  funny,  and  you  will  undoubtedly  die  of 
blood-poisoning.  Every  one  does  nowadays." 

"I  shall  disappoint  you.  Ijima  and  I  between  us  have 
stuck  me  together  like  a  cracked  plate.  And  it  is  not 
well  to  publish  our  troubles  to  the  world.  If  I  called  the 
village  doctor  he  would  kill  his  horse  circulating  the 
mysterious  tidings.  Are  you  satisfied  ?" 

"Quite  so.    You're  a  man  after  my  own  heart,  Don- 


227 


22S  KOSALIND   AT    RED    GATE 

We  had  reached  the  dining-room  and  stood  by  our 
chairs. 

"I  should  like/'  he  said,  taking  up  his  cocktail  glass, 
"to  propose  a  truce  between  us — " 

"In  the  matter  of  a  certain  lady?" 

"Even  so!  On  the  honor  of  a  fool,"  he  said,  and 
touched  his  glass  to  his  lips.  "And  may  the  best  man 
win,"  he  added,  putting  down  the  glass  unemptied. 

He  was  one  of  those  comfortable  people  with  whom 
it  is  possible  to  sit  in  silence;  but  after  intervals  in 
which  we  found  nothing  to  say  he  would,  with  exag 
gerated  gravity,  make  some  utterly  inane  remark.  To 
night  his  mind  was  more  agile  than  ever,  his  thoughts 
leaping  nimbly  from  crag  to  crag,  like  a  mountain  goat. 
He  had  traveled  widely  and  knew  the  ways  of  many 
cities ;  and  of  American  political  characters,  whose  names 
were  but  vaguely  known  to  me,  he  discoursed  with  de 
lightful  intimacy ;  then  his  mind  danced  away  to  a  tour 
he  had  once  made  with  a  company  of  acrobats  whose 
baggage  he  had  released  from  the  grasping  hands  of  a 
rural  sheriff. 

"What,"  he  asked  presently,  "is  as  sad  as  being  de 
ceived  in  a  person  you  have  admired  and  trusted?  I 
knew  a  fellow  who  was  professor  of  something  in  a 


A    COMMISSION  229 

blooming  college,  and  who  was  so  poor  that  he  had  to 
coach  delinquent  preps  in  summer-time  instead  of  get 
ting  a  vacation.  I  had  every  confidence  in  that  fellow.  I 
thought  he  was  all  right,  and  so  I  took  him  up  into 
Maine  with  me — just  the  two  of  us — and  hired  an  In 
dian  to  run  our  camp,  and  everything  pointed  to  plus. 
Weil,  I  always  get  stung  when  I  try  to  be  good." 

He  placed  his  knife  and  fork  carefully  across  his  plate 
and  sighed  deeply. 

"What  was  the  matter?  Did  he  bore  you  with  philos 
ophy?" 

"No  such  luck.  That  man  was  weak-minded  on  the 
subject  of  domesticating  prairie-dogs.  You  may  shoot 
me  if  that  isn't  the  fact.  There  he  was,  a  prize-winner 
and  a  fellow  of  his  university,  and  a  fine  scholar  who 
edited  Greek  text-books,  with  that  thing  on  his  mind. 
He  held  that  the  daily  example  of  the  happy  home  life 
of  the  prairie-dog  would  tend  to  ennoble  all  mankind  and 
brighten  up  our  family  altars.  Think  of  being  lost  in  the 
woods  with  a  man  with  such  an  idea,  and  of  having  to 
sleep  under  the  same  blanket  with  him !  It  rained  most 
of  the  time  so  we  had  to  sit  in  the  tent,  and  he  never  let 
up.  He  got  so  bad  that  he  would  wake  me  up  in  the 
night  to  talk  prairie-dog." 


230  KOSALIND   AT   BED    GATE 

"It  must  have  been  trying/'  I  agreed.  "What  was 
your  solution,  Buttons  ?" 

"I  moved  outdoors  and  slept  with  the  Indian.  Your 
salad  dressing  is  excellent,  Donovan,  though  personally 
I  lean  to  more  of  the  paprika.  But  let  us  go  back  a  bit  to 
the  Holbrooks.  Omitting  the  lady,  there  are  certain 
points  about  which  we  may  as  well  agree.  I  am  not  so 
great  a  fool  but  that  I  can  see  that  this  state  of  things 
can  not  last  forever.  Henry  is  broken  down  from  drink 
and  brooding  over  his  troubles,  and  about  ready  for  close 
confinement  in  a  brick  building  with  barred  windows." 

"Then  Fm  for  capturing  him  and  sticking  him  away 
in  a  safe  place." 

"That's  the  Irish  of  it,  if  you  will  pardon  me ;  but  it's 
not  the  Holbrook  of  it.  A  father  tucked  away  in  a  pri 
vate  madhouse  would  not  sound  well  to  the  daughter.  I 
advise  you  not  to  suggest  that  to  Helen.  I  generously  aid 
your  suit  to  that  extent.  We  are  both  playing  for  Helen's 
gratitude ;  that's  the  flat  of  the  matter." 

"I  was  brought  into  this  business  to  help  Miss  Pat," 
I  declared,  though  a  trifle  lamely.  Gillespie  grinned  sar 
donically. 

"Be  it  far  from  me  to  interfere  with  your  plans,  meth 
ods  or  hopes.  We  both  have  the  conceit  of  our  wisdom!" 


A    COMMISSION  231 

"There  ma}'  be  something  in  that." 

"But  it  was  decent  of  you  to  get  me  out  of  that  Ital 
ian's  clutches  this  afternoon.  When  I  went  over  there  I 
thought  I  might  find  Henry  Holbrook  and  pound  some 
sense  into  him ;  and  he's  about  due,  from  that  telegram. 
If  Miss  Pat  won't  soften  her  heart  I'd  better  buy  him 
off,"  he  added  reflectively. 

We  walked  the  long  length  of  the  hall  into  the  library, 
and  had  just  lighted  our  cigars  when  the  butler  sought 
me. 

"Beg  pardon,  the  telephone,  sir." 

My  distrust  of  the  telephone  is  so  deep-seated  that  I 
had  forgotten  the  existence  of  the  instrument  in  Glen- 
arm  house,  where,  I  now  learned,  it  was  tucked  away  in 
the  butler's  pantry  for  the  convenience  of  the  house 
keeper  in  ordering  supplies  from  the  village.  After  a 
moment's  parley  a  woman's  voice  addressed  me  distinctly 
— a  voice  that  at  once  arrested  and  held  all  my  thoughts. 
My  replies  were,  I  fear,  somewhat  breathless  and  wholly 
stupid. 

"This  is  Koealind ;  do  you  remember  me  ?" 

"Yes;  I  remember;  I  remember  nothing  else!"  I  de 
clared.  Ijima  had  closed  the  door  behind  me,  and  I  was 
alc-ne  with  the  voice — a  voice  that  spoke  to  rne  of  the 


232  ROSALIND    AT    RED    GATE 

summer  night,  and  of  low  winds  murmuring  across 
starry  waters. 

"I  am  going  away.  The  Rosalind  you  remember  is 
going  a  long  way  from  the  lake,  and  you  will  never  see 
her  again." 

"But  you  have  an  engagement ;  when  the  new  moon — " 

"But  the  little  feather  of  the  new  moon  is  under  a 
cloud,  and  you  can  not  see  it;  and  Rosalind  must  always 
be  Helen  now." 

"But  this  won't  do,  Rosalind.  Ours  was  more  than  an 
engagement ;  it  was  a  solemn  compact,"  I  insisted. 

"Oh,  not  sp  very  solemn!"  she  laughed.  "And  then 
you  have  the  other  girl  that  isn't  just  me — the  girl  of 
the  daylight,  that  you  ride  and  sail  with  and  play  tennis 
with." 

"Oh,  I  haven't  her;  I  don't  want  her—" 

"Treacherous  man !  Volatile  Irishman !" 

"Marvelous,  adorable  Rosalind !" 

"That  will  do,  Mr.  Donovan" — and  then  with  a  quick 
change  of  tone  she  asked  abruptly : 

"You  are  not  afraid  of  trouble,  are  you?" 

"I  live  for  nothing  else !" 

"You  are  not  so  pledged  to  the  Me  you  play  tennis 
with  that  you  can  not  serve  Rosalind  if  she  asks  it?" 


A    COMMISSION  233 

"No ;  you  have  only  to  ask.  But  I  must  see  you  once 
more — as  Eosalind  I" 

"Stop  being  silly,  and  listen  carefully."  And  I  thought 
I  heard  a  sob  in  the  moment's  silence  before  she  spoke. 

"I  want  you  to  go,  at  once,  to  the  house  of  the  boat- 
maker  on  Tippecanoe  Creek ;  go  as  fast  as  you  can  V  she 
implored. 

"To  the  house  of  the  man  who  calls  himself  Hartridge, 
the  canoe-maker,  at  Eed  Gate  ?" 

"Yes;  you  must  see  that  no  harm  comes  to  him  to 
night." 

There  was  no  mistaking  now  the  sobs  that  broke  her 
sentences,  and  my  mind  was  so  a-whirl  with  questions 
that  I  stammered  incoherently. 

"Will  you  go — will  you  go  ?"  she  demanded  in  a  voice 
so  low  and  broken  that  I  scarcely  heard. 

"Yes,  at  once,"  and  the  voice  vanished,  and  while 
I  still  stood  staring  at  the  instrument  the  operator  at 
Annandale  blandly  asked  me  what  number  I  wanted. 
The  thread  had  snapped  and  the  spell  was  broken.  I 
stared  helplessly  at  the  thing  of  wood  and  wire  for  half 
a  minute ;  then  the  girl's  appeal  and  my  promise  rose  in 
my  mind  distinct  from  all  else.  I  ordered  my  horse  be 
fore  returning  to  the  library,  where  G-illespie  was  coolly 


234:  ROSALIND   AT    RED    GATE 

turning  over  the  magazines  on  the  table.  I  was  still 
dazed,  and  something  in<my  appearance  caused  him  to 
stare. 

"Been  seeing  a  ghost  ?"  he  asked. 

"No ;  just  hearing  one/'  I  replied. 

I  had  yet  to  offer  some  pretext  for  leaving  him,  and  as 
I  walked  the  length  of  the  room  he  stifled  a  yawn,  his 
eyes  falling  upon  the  lins  of  French  windows.  I  spoke 
of  the  heat  of  the  night,  but  he  did  not  answer,  and  I 
turned  to  find  his  gaze  fixed  upon  one  of  the  open  win 
dows. 

"What  is  it,  man?"  I  demanded. 

He  crossed  the  room  in  a  leap  and  was  out  upon  the 
terrace,  peering  down  upon  the  shrubbery  beneath. 

"What's  the  row?"  I  demanded. 

"Didn't  you  see  it?" 

"No." 

"Then  it  wasn't  anything.  I  thought  I  saw  the  dago, 
if  you  must  know.  He'll  probably  be  around  looking 
for  us." 

"Humph,  you're  a  little  nervous,  that's  all.  You'll 
stay  here  all  night,  of  course?"  I  asked,  without,  I  fear, 
much  enthusiasm. 

He  grinned. 


A    COMMISSION  235 

"Don't  be  so  cordial !  If  you'll  send  me  into  town  I'll 
be  off." 

I  had  just  ordered  the  dog-cart  when  the  butler  ap 
peared. 

"If  you  please,  sir,  Sister  Margaret  wishes  to  use  our 
telephone,  sir.  St.  Agatha's  is  out  of  order." 

I  spoke  to  the  Sister  as  she  left  the  house,  half  as  a 
matter  of  courtesy,  half  to  make  sure  of  her.  The  tele 
phone  at  St.  Agatha's  had  been  out  of  order  for  several 
days,  she  said;  and  I  walked  with  her  to  St.  Agatha's 
gate,  talking  of  the  weather,  the  garden  and  the  Hoi- 
brook  ladies,  who  were,  she  said,  quite  well. 

Thereafter,  when  I  had  despatched  Gillespie  to  the  vil 
lage  in  the  dog-cart,  I  got  into  my  leggings,  reflecting 
upon  the  odd  circumstance  that  Helen  Holbrook  had 
been  able  to  speak  to  me  over  the  telephone  a  few  min 
utes  before,  using  an  instrument  that  had,  by  Sister 
Margaret's  testimony,  been  out  of  commission  for  several 
days.  The  girl  had  undoubtedly  slipped  away  from  St. 
Agatha's  and  spoken  to  me  from  some  other  house  in 
the  neighborhood ;  but  this  was  a  matter  of  little  impor 
tance,  now  that  I  had  undertaken  her  commission. 

The  chapel  clock  chimed  nine  as  I  gained  the  road, 
and  I  walked  my  horse  to  scan  S't.  Agatha's  windows 


236  ROSALIND    AT    RED    GATE 

through  vistas  that  offered  across  the  foliage.  And  there, 
by  the  open  window  of  her  aunt's  sitting-room,  I  saw 
Helen  Holbrook  reading.  A  table-lamp  at  her  side  il 
lumined  her  slightly  bent  head ;  and,  as  though  aroused 
by  my  horse's  quick  step  in  the  road,  she  rose  and  stood 
framed  against  the  light,  with  the  soft  window  draperies 
fluttering  about  her. 

I  spoke  to  my  horse  and  galloped  toward  Red  Gate. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

A.'N  ODD  AFFAIR  AT  EED  GATE 

Brother,  you  have  a  vice  of  mercy  in  you, 
Which  better  fits  a  lion  than  a  man. 

— Troilus  and  Cressida. 

As  I  rode  through  Port  Annandale  the  lilting  strains 
of  a  waltz  floated  from  the  casino,  and  I  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  lake's  cincture  of  lights.  My  head  was 
none  too  clear  from  its  crack  on  the  cabin  floor,  and  my 
chest  was  growing  sore  and  stiff  from  the  slash  of  the 
Italian's  knife;  but  my  spirits  were  high,  and  my  ears 
rang  with  memories  of  the  Voice.  Helen  had  given 
me  a  commission,  and  every  fact  of  my  life  faded  into 
insignificance  compared  to  this.  The  cool  night  air 
rushing  by  refreshed  me.  I  was  eager  for  the  next 
turn  of  the  wheel,  and  my  curiosity  ran  on  to  the  boat- 
maker's  house. 

I  came  now  to  a  lonely  sweep,  where  the  road  ran 
through  a  heavy  woodland,  and  the  cool,  moist  air  of  the 
forest  rose  round  me.  The  lake,  I  knew,  lay  close  at  hand, 

237 


238  KOSALIKD   AT   EED    GATE 

and  the  Hartridge  cottage  was  not,  as  I  reckoned  my 
distances,,  very  far  ahead.  I  had  dra.wn  in  my  horse  to 
consider  the  manner  of  my  approach  to  the  boat-maker's, 
and  was  jogging  along  at  an  easy  trot  when  a  rifle-shot 
rang  out  on  my  left,  from  the  direction  of  the  creek,  and 
my  horse  shied  sharply  and  plunged  on  at  a  wild  gallop. 
He  ran  several  hundred  yards  before  I  could  check 
him,  and  then  I  turned  and  rode  slowly  back,  peering 
into  the  forest's  black  shadow  for  the  foe.  I  paused  and 
waited,  with  the  horse  dancing  crazily  beneath  me,  but 
the  woodland  presented  an  inscrutable  front.  I  then 
rode  on  to  the  unfenced  strip  of  wood  where  I  had  left 
my  horse  before. 

I  began  this  narrative  with  every  intention  of  telling 
the  whole  truth  touching  my  adventures  at  Annandale, 
and  I  can.  not  deny  that  the  shot  from  the  wood  had 
again  shaken  my  faith  in  Helen  Holbrook.  She  had 
sent  me  to  the  Tippecanoe  on  an  errand  of  her  own 
choosing,  and  I  had  been  fired  on  from  ambush  near 
the  place  to  which  she  had  sent  me.  I  fear  that  my  tower 
of  faith  that  had  grown  so  tall  and  strong  shook  on  its 
foundations;  but  once  more  I  dismissed  my  doubts, 
just  as  I  had  dismissed  other  doubts  and  misgivings 
about  her.  My  fleeting  glimpse  of  her  in  the  window 


AN"    ODD    AFFAIR  239 

of  St.  Agatha's  less  than  an  hour  before  flashed  back 
upon  me,  and  the  tower  touched  the  stars,  steadfast  and 
serene  again. 

I  strode  on  toward  Eed  Gate  with  my  revolver  in  the 
side  pocket  of  my  Norfolk  jacket.  A  buckboard  filled 
with  young  folk  from  the  summer  colony  passed  me, 
and  then  the  utter  silence  of  the  country  held  the  world. 
In  a  moment  I  had  reached  the  canoe-maker's  cottage 
and  entered  the  gate.  I  went  at  once  to  the  front  door 
and  knocked.  I  repeated  my  knock  several  times,  but 
there  was  no  answer.  The  front  window-blinds  were 
closed  tight. 

It  was  now  half -past  ten  and  I  walked  round  the  dark 
house  with  the  sweet  scents  of  the  garden  rising  about 
me  and  paused  again  at  the  top  of  the  steps  leading  to 
the  creek. 

The  house-boat  was  effectually  screened  by  shrubbery, 
and  I  had  descended  half  a  dozen  steps  before  I  saw  a 
light  in  the  windows.  It  occurred  to  me  that  as  I  had 
undoubtedly  been  sent  to  Eed  Gate  for  some  purpose,  I 
should  do  well  not  to  defeat  it  by  any  clumsiness  of  my 
own;  so  I  proceeded  slowly,  pausing  several  times  to 
observe  the  lights  below.  I  heard  the  Tippecanoe  slip 
ping  by  with  the  subdued  murmur  of  water  at  night; 


240  EOSALIND    AT    EED    GATE 

and  then  a  lantern  flashed  on  deck  and  I  heard  voices. 
Some  one  was  landing  from  a  boat  in  the  creek.  This 
seemed  amiable  enough,  as  the  lantern-bearer  helped  a 
man  in  the  boat  to  clamber  to  the  platform,  and  from 
the  open  door  of  the  shop  a  broad  shaft  of  light  shone 
brightly  upon  the  two  men.  The  man  with  the  lantern 
was  Holbrook,  alias  Hartridge,  beyond  a  doubt;  the 
other  was  a  stranger.  Holbrook  caught  the  painter  of 
the  boat  and  silently  made  it  fast. 

"Now,"  he  said,  "come  in." 

They  crossed  the  deck  and  entered  the  boat-maker's 
shop,  and  I  crept  down  where  I  could  peer  in  at  an  open 
port-hole.  Several  brass  ship-lamps  of  an  odd  pattern 
lighted  the  place  brilliantly,  and  I  was  surprised  to  note 
the  unusual  furnishings  of  the  room.  The  end  nearest 
my  port-hole  was  a  shop,  with  a  carpenter's  bench  with 
litter  all  about  that  spoke  of  practical  use.  Two  canoes 
in  process  of  construction  lay  across  frames  contrived 
for  the  purpose,  and  overhead  was  a  rack  of  lumber  hung 
away  to  dry.  The  men  remained  at  the  farther  end  of 
the  house — it  was,  I  should  say,  about  a  hundred  feet 
long — which,  without  formal  division,  was  fitted  as  a  sit 
ting-room,  with  a  piano  in  one  corner,  and  a  long  settle 
against  the  wall.  In  the  center  was  a  table  littered  with 


AN    ODD    AFFAIR  241 

books  and  periodicals;  and  a  woman's  sewing-basket, 
interwoven  with  bright  ribbons,  gave  a  domestic  touch 
to  the  place.  On  the  inner  wall  hung  a  pair  of  foils  and 
masks.  Pictures  from  illustrated  journals — striking 
heads  or  outdoor  scenes — were  pinned  here  and  there. 

The  new-comer  stared  about,  twirling  a  Tweed  cap 
nervously  in  his  hands,  while  Holbrook  carefully  ex 
tinguished  the  lantern  and  put  it  aside.  His  visitor  was 
about  fifty,  taller  than  he,  and  swarthy,  with  a  grayish 
mustache,  and  hair  white  at  the  temples.  His  eyes  were 
large  and  daxk,  but  even  with,  the  length  of  the  room 
between  us  I  marked  their  restlessness ;  and  now  that  he 
spoke  it  was  in  a  succession  of  quick  rushes  of  words 
that  were  difficult  to  follow. 

Holbrook  pushed  a  chair  toward  the  stranger  and  they 
faced  each  other  for  a  moment,  then  with  a  shrug  of  his 
shoulders  the  older  man  sat  down.  Holbrook  was  im 
white  flannels,  with  a  blue  scarf  knotted  in  his  shirt  col 
lar.  He  dropped  into  a  big  wicker  chair,  crossed  his 
legs  and  folded  his  arms. 

"Well/'  he  said  in  a  wholly  agreeable  tone,  "you  want 
ed  to  see  me,  and  here  I  am." 

"You  are  well  hidden,"  said  the  other,  still  gazing 
about. 


242  ROSALIND    AT    RED    GATE 

"I  imagine  I  am,  from  the  fact  that  it  has  taken 
you  seven  years  to  find  me." 

"1  haven't  been  looking  for  you  seven  years/'  replied 
the  stranger  hastily;  and  his  eyes  again  roamed  the 
room. 

The  men  seemed  reluctant  to  approach  the  business 
that  lay  between  them,  and  Holbrook  wore  an  air  of 
indifference,  as  though  the  impending  interview  did 
not  concern  him  particularly.  The  eyes  of  the  older 
man  fell  now  upon  the  beribboned  work-basket.  He 
nodded  toward  it,  his  eyes  lighting  unpleasantly. 

"There  seems  to  be  a  woman,"  he  remarked  witH  a 
sneer  of  implication. 

"Yes,"  replied  Holbrook  calmly,  "there  is;  that  be 
longs  to  my  daughter." 

"Where  is  she?"  demanded  the  other,  glancing  anx 
iously  about. 

"In  bed,  I  fancy.  You  need  have  no  fear  of  her." 

Silence  fell  upon  them  again.  Their  affairs  were  dif 
ficult,  and  Holbrook,  waiting  patiently  for  the  other  to 
broach  his  errand,  drew  out  his  tobacco-pouch  and  pipe 
and  began  to  smoke. 

"Patricia  is  here,  and  Helen  is  with  her,"  said  tEe 
visitor. 


ABT    ODD    AFFAIR  243 

"Yes,  we  are  all  here,  it  seems/'  remarked  Holbrook 
dryly.  "It's  a  nice  family  gathering/' 

"I  suppose  you  haven't  seen  them?"  demanded  the 
visitor. 

"Yes  and  no.  I  have  no'  wish  to  meet  them ;  but  I've 
had  several  narrow  escapes.  They  have  cut  me  off  from 
my  walks ;  but  I  shall  leave  here  shortly." 

"Yes,  you  are  going,  you  are  going — "  began  the  vis 
itor  eagerly. 

"I  am  going,  but  not  until  after  you  have  gone," 
said  Holbrook.  "By  some  strange  fate  we  are  all  here, 
and  it  is  best  for  certain  things  to  be  settled  before  we 
separate  again.  I  have  tried  to  keep  out  of  your  way; 
I  have  sunk  my  identity ;  I  have  relinquished  the  things 
of  life  that  men  hold  dear — honor,  friends,  ambition, 
and  now  you  and  I  have  got  to>  have  a  settlement." 

"You  seem  rather  sure  of  yourself,"  sneered  the 
older,  turning  uneasily  in  his  chair. 

"I  am  altogether  sure  of  myself.  I  have  been  a  fool, 
but  I  see  the  error  of  my  ways  and  I  propose  to  settle 
matters  with  you  now  and  here.  You  have  got  to  drop 
your  game  of  annoying  Patricia;  you've  got  to  stop 
using  your  own  daughter  as  a  spy — " 

"You  lie,  you  lie!"  roared  the  other,  leaping  to  his 


244  KOSALIKD    AT    RED    GATE 

feet.  "You  can  not  insinuate  that  my  daughter  is  not 
acting  honorably  toward  Patricia." 

My  mind  had  slowly  begun  to  grasp  the  situation  and 
to  identify  the  men  before  me.  It  was  as  though  I 
looked  upon  a  miniature  stage  in  a  darkened  theater, 
and,  without  a  bill  of  the  play,  was  slowly  finding  names 
for  the  players.  Holbrook,  alias  Hartridge,  the  boat- 
maker  of  the  Tippecanoe,  was  not  Henry  Holbrook,  but 
Henry's  brother,  Arthur!  and  I  sought  at  once  to 
recollect  what  I  knew  of  him.  An  instant  before  I  had 
half  turned  to  go,  ashamed  of  eavesdropping  upon  mat 
ters  that  did  not  concern  me;  but  the  Voice  that  had 
sent  me  held  me  to  the  window.  It  was  some  such  meet 
ing  as  this  that  Helen  must  have  feared  when  she  sent 
me  to  the  house-boat,  and  everything  else  must  await  the 
issue  of  this  meeting. 

"You  had  better  sit  down,  Henry,"  said  Arthur  Hol 
brook  quietly.  "And  I  suggest  that  you  make  less  noise. 
This  is  a  lonely  place,  but  there  are  human  beings  within 
a  hundred  miles." 

Henry  Holbrook  paced  the  floor  a  moment  and  then 
flung  himself  into  a  chair  again,  but  he  bent  forward 
angrily,  nervously  beating  his  hands  together.  Arthur 
went  on  speaking,  his  voice  shaking  with  passion. 


AN    ODD   AFFAIR  245 

"I  want  to  say  to  you  that  you  have  deteriorated  until 
you  are  a  common  damned  blackguard,  Henry  Holbrook ! 
You  are  a  blackguard  and  a  gambler.  And  you  have 
made  murderous  attempts  on  the  life  of  your  sister ;  you 
drove  her  from  Stamford  and  you  tried  to  smash  her 
boat  out  here  in  the  lake.  I  saw  the  whole  transaction 
that  afternoon,  and  understood  it  all — how  you  hung  off 
there  in  the  Stiletto  and  sent  that  beast  to  do  your  dirty 
work." 

"I  didn't  follow  her  here;  I  didn't  follow  her  here!" 
raged  the  other. 

"No;  but  you  watched  and  waited  until  you  traced 
me  here.  You  were  not  satisfied  with  what  I  had  done  for 
you.  You  wanted  to  kill  me  before  I  could  tell  Pat  the 
truth ;  and  if  it  hadn't  been  for  that  man  Donovan  your 
assassin  would  have  stabbed  me  at  my  door."  Arthur 
Holbrook  rose  and  flung  down  his  pipe  so  that  the  coals 
leaped  from  it.  "But  it's  all  over  now — this  long  exile  of 
mine,  this  pursuit  of  Pat,  this  hideous  use  of  your 
daughter  to  pluck  your  chestnuts  from  the  fire.  By 
God,  you've  got  to  quit — you've  got  to  go !" 

"But  I  want  my  money — I  want  my  money !"  roared 
Henry,  as  though  insisting  upon  a  right;  but  Arthur 
ignored  him,  and  went  on. 


246  KOSALIND   AT   EED    GATE 

"You  were  the  one  who  was  strong ;  and  great  things 
were  expected  of  you,  to  add  to  the  traditions  of  family 
honor;  but  our  name  is  only  mentioned  with  a  sneer 
where  men  remember  it  at  all.  You  were  spoiled  and 
pampered;  you  ha,ve  never  from  your  early  boyhood 
had  a  thought  that  was  not  for  yourself  alone.  You 
were  always  envious  and  jealous  of  anybody  that  came 
near  you,  and  not  least  of  me;  and  when  I  saved  you, 
when  I  gave  you  your  chance  to  become  a  man  at  last, 
to  regain  the  respect  you  had  flung  away  so  shamefully, 
you  did  not  realize  it,  you  could  not  realize  it ;  you  took 
it  as  a  matter  of  course,  as  though  I  had  handed  you  a 
cigar.  I  ask  you  now,  here  in  this  place,  where  I  am 
known  and  respected — I  ask  you  here,  where  I  have 
toiled  with  my  hands,  whether  you  forget  why  I  am 
here?" 

Henry  Holbrook  tugged  at  his  scarf  nervously  and 
his  eyes  wandered  about  uneasily.  He  did  not  answer 
his  brother.  Arthur  stood  over  him,  with  folded  arms, 
his  back  to  me  so  that  I  could  not  see  his  face ;  but  his 
tone  had  in  it  the  gathered  passion  and  contempt  of 
years.  Then  he  was  at  once  himself,  standing  away  a 
little,  like  a  lawyer  after  a  round  with  a  refractory  wit 
ness. 


AN    ODD    AFFAIR  247 

"I  must  have  iny  money;  Patricia  must  make  the  divi 
sion,"  replied  Henry  doggedly. 

"Certainly !  Certainly !  I  devoutly  hope  she  will  give 
it  to  you ;  you  need  fear  no  interference  from  me.  The 
sooner  you  get  it  and  fling  it  away  the  better.  Patricia 
has  been  animated  by  the  best  motives  in  withholding 
it;  she  regarded  it  as  a  sacred  trust  to  administer  for 
your  own  good,  but  now  I  want  you  to  have  your 
money/' 

"If  I  can  have  my  share,  if  you  will  persuade  her  fr> 
give  it,  I  will  pay  you  all  I  owe  you — "  Henry  began 
eagerly. 

"What  you  owe  me — what  you  owe  me !"  and  Arthur 
bent  toward  his  brother  and  laughed — a  laugh  that  was 
not  good  to  hear.  "You  would  give  me  money — money 
— you  would  pay  me  money  for  priceless  things  I" 

He  broke  off  suddenly,  dropping  his  arms  at  his  sides 
helplessly. 

"There  is  no  use  in  trying  to  talk  to  you;  we  use  a 
different  vocabulary,  Henry." 

"But  that  trouble  with  Gillespie—if  Patricia 
knew—'5 

"Yes ;  If  she  knew  ft*  truth !  !An&  jtm  never  under 
stood,  yfcu  are  incapable  of  understanding,  that  it  meant 


ROSALIND   AT   RED   GATE 

something  to  me  to  lose  my  sister  out  of  my  life.  When 
Helen  died" — and  his  voice  fell  and  he  paused  for  a  mo 
ment,  as  a  priest  falters  sometimes,  gripped  by  some 
phrase  in  the  office  that  touches  hidden  depths  in  his  own 
experience,,  "then  when  Helen  died  there  was  still 
Patricia,  the  noblest  sister  men  ever  had ;  but  you  robbed 
me  of  her — you  robbed  me  of  her  I" 

He  was  deeply  moved  and,  as  he  controlled  himself, 
he  walked  to  the  little  table  and  fingered  the  ribbons  of 
the  work-basket. 

"I  haven't  those  notes,  if  that's  what  you're  after — 
I  never  had  them,"  he  said.  "Gillespie  kept  tight  hold 
of  them." 

"Yes;  the  vindictive  old  devil !" 

"Men  who  have  been  swindled  are  usually  vindictive/' 
replied  Arthur  grimly.  "Gillespie  is  dead.  I  suppose  the 
executor  of  his  estate  has  those  papers ;  and  the  executor 
is  his  son." 

"The  fool.  I've  never  been  able  to  get  anything  out  of 
him." 

"If  he's  a  fool  it  ought  to  be  all  the  easier  to  get  your 
pretty  playthings  away  from  him.  Old  Gillespie  really 
acted  pretty  decently  about  the  whole  business.  Your 
daughter  may  be  able  to  get  them  away  from  the  boy; 


AN   ODD   AFFAIR  249 

he's  infatuated  with  her;  he  wants  to  marry  her,  it 
seems." 

"My  daughter  is  not  in  this  matter/'  said  Henry 
coldly,  and  then  anger  mastered  him  again.  "I  don't 
believe  he  has  them;  you  have  them,  and  that's  why  I 
have  followed  you  here.  I'm  going  to  Patricia  to  throw 
myself  on  her  mercy,  and  that  ghost  must  not  rise  up 
against  me.  I  want  them;  I  have  come  to  get  those 
notes." 

I  was  aroused  by  a  shadow-like  touch  on  my  arm,  and 
I  knew  without  seeing  who  it  was  that  stood  beside  me. 
A  faint  hint  as  of  violets  stole  upon  the  air ;  her  breath 
touched  my  cheek  as  she  bent  close  to  the  little  window, 
and  she  sighed  deeply  as  in  relief  at  beholding  a  scene 
of  peace.  Arthur  Holbrook  still  stood  with  bowed  head 
by  the  table,  his  back  to  his  brother,  and  I  felt  suddenly 
the  girl's  hand  clutch  my  wrist.  She  with  her  fresher 
eyes  upon  the  scene  saw,  before  I  grasped  it,  what  now 
occurred.  Henry  Holbrook  had  drawn  a  revolver  from 
his  pocket  and  pointed  it  full  at  his  brother's  back. 
We  two  at  the  window  saw  the  weapon  flash  men 
acingly;  but  suddenly  Arthur  Holbrook  flung  round  as 
his  brother  cried : 

"I  think  you  are  lying  to  me,  and  I  want  those  notes — 


250  ROSALIND    AT    RED    GATE 

I  want  those  notes,  I  want  them  now !   You  must  have 
them,  and  I  can't  go  to  Patricia  until  I  know  they're 


He  advanced  several  steps  and  his  manner  grew  con 
fident  as  he  saw  that  he  held  the  situation  in  his  own 
grasp.  I  would  have  rushed  in  upon  them  but  the  girl 
held  me  back. 

"Wait!   Wait!"  she  whispered. 

Arthur  thrust  his  hands  into  the  side  pockets  of  his 
flannel  jacket  and  nodded  his  head  once  or  twice. 

"Why  don't  you  shoot,  Henry?" 

"I  want  those  notes,"  said  Henry  Holbrook.  "You 
lied  to  me  about  them.  They  were  to  have  been  de 
stroyed.  I  want  them  now,  to-night." 

"If  you  shoot  me  you  will  undoubtedly  get  them 
much  easier,"  said  Arthur ;  and  he  lounged  away  toward 
the  wall,  half  turning  his  back,  while  the  point  of  the 
pistol  followed  him.  "But  the  fact  is,  I  never  had  them ; 
Gillespie  kept  them." 

Threats  cool  quickly,  and  I  really  had  not  much  fear 
that  Henry  Holbrook  meant  to  kill  his  brother;  and 
Arthur's  indifference  to  his  danger  was  having  its  dis 
concerting  effect  on  Henry.  The  pistol-barrel  wavered; 
but  Henry  steadied  himself  and  his  clutch  tightened 


AN    ODD    AFFAIR  251 

on  the  butt.  I  again  turned  toward  the  door,  but  the 
girl's  hand  held  me  back. 

"Wait/'  she  whispered  again.  "That  man  is  a  coward. 
He  will  not  shoot." 

The  canoe-maker  had  been  calmly  talking,  discussing 
the  disagreeable  consequences  of  murder  in  a  tone  of 
half -banter,  and  he  now  stood  directly  under  the  foils. 
Then  in  a  flash  he  snatched  one  of  them,  flung  it  up 
with  an  accustomed  hand,  and  snapped  it  across  his 
brother's  knuckles.  At  the  window  we  heard  the  slim 
steel  hiss  through  the  air,  followed  by  the  rattle  of  the 
revolver  as  it  struck  the  ground.  The  canoe-maker's  foot 
was  on  it  instantly ;  he  still  held  the  foil. 

"Henry,"  he  said  in  the  tone  of  one  rebukirg  a  child, 
"you  are  bad  enough,  but  I  do  not  intend  that  you  shall 
be  a  murderer.  And  now  I  want  you  to  go;  I  will  not 
treat  with  you ;  I  want  nothing  more  to  do  with  you !  I 
repeat  that  I  haven't  got  the  notes." 

He  pointed  to  the  door  with  the  foil.  The  blood 
surged  angrily  in  his  face;  but  his  voice  was  in  com 
plete  control  as  he  went  on. 

"Your  visit  has  awakened  me  to  a  sense  of  neglected 
duty,  Henry.  I  have  allowed  you  to  persecute  our  sister 
without  raising  a  hand;  I  have  no  other  business  now 


252  EOSALIND   AT    KED    GATE 

but  to  protect  her.  Go  back  to  your  stupid  sailor  and 
tell  him  that  if  I  catch  him  in  any  mischief  on  the  lake 
or  here  I  shall  certainly  kill  him." 

I  lost  any  further  words  that  passed  between  them, 
as  Henry,  crazily  threatening,  walked  out  upon  the  deck 
to  his  boat;  then  from  the  creek  came  the  threshing  of 
oars  that  died  away  in  a  moment.  When  I  gazed  into  the 
room  again  Arthur  Holbrook  was  blowing  out  the  lights. 

( 'I  am  grateful ;  I  am  so  grateful,"  faltered  the  girl's 
voice ;  "but  you  must  not  be  seen  here.  Please  go  now !" 
I  had  taken  her  hands,  feeling  that  I  was  about  to  lose 
her;  but  she  freed  them  and  stood  away  from  me  in 
the  shadow. 

"We  are  going  away — we  must  leave  here!  I  can 
never  see  you  again,"  she  whispered. 

In  the  starlight  she  was  Helen,  by  every  test  my  senses 
could  make;  but  by  something  deeper  I  knew  that  she 
was  not  the  girl  I  had  seen  in  the  window  at  St. 
Agatha's.  She  was  more  dependent,  less  confident  and 
poised;  she  stifled  a  sob  and  came  close.  Through  the 
window  I  saw  Arthur  Holbrook  climbing  up  to  blow 
out  the  last  light. 

"I  could  have  watched  myself,  but  I  was  afraid  that 
sailor  might  come ;  and  it  was  he  that  fired  at  you  in  the 


"  I  do  not  intend  that  you  shall  be  a  murderer."     Page  251 


AN    ODD    AFFAIR  253 

road.  He  had  gone  to  Glenarm  to  watch  you  and  keep 
you  away  from  here.  Uncle  Henry  came  back  to-day 
and  sent  word  that  he  wanted  to  see  my  father,  and  I 
asked  you  to  come  to  help  us." 

"I  thank  you  for  that" 

"And  there  was  another  man — a  stranger,  back  there 
near  the  road ;  I  could  not  make  him  out,  but  you  will 
be  careful, — please !  You  must  think  very  ill  of  me  for 
bringing  you  into  all  this  danger  and  trouble." 

"I  am  grateful  to  you.  Please  turn  all  your  troubles 
over  to  me." 

"You  did  what  I  asked  you  to  do,"  she  said,  "when  I 
had  no  right  to  ask,  but  I  was  afraid  of  what  might 
happen  here.  It  is  all  right  now  and  we  are  going  away ; 
we  must  leave  this  place." 

"But  I  shall  see  you  again." 

"No !  You  have — you  have — Helen.  You  don't  know 
me  at  all !  You  will  find  your  mistake  to-morrow." 

She  was-  urging  me  toward  the  steps  that  led  up  to 
the  house.  The  sob  was  still  in  her  throat,  but  she  was 
laughing,  a  little  hysterically,  in  her  relief  that  her 
father  had  come  off  unscathed. 

"Then  you  must  let  me  find  it  out  to-morrow ;  I  will 
come  to-morrow  before  you  go." 


254:  ROSALIND   AT    EED    GATE 

"No!  No!  This  is  good-by,"  she  said.  "You  would 
not  be  so  unkind  as  to  stay,  when  I  am  so  troubled,,  and 
there  is  so  much  to  do !" 

We  were  at  the  foot  of  the  stairway,  and  I  heard  the 
shop  door  snap  shut. 

"Good  night,  Rosalind !" 

"Good-by ;  and  thank  you  I"  she  whispered. 


CHAPTEK  XVII 

HOW  THE  NIGHT  ENDED 

One  year  ago  my  path  was  green, 
My  footstep  light,  my  brow  serene; 
Alas!  and  could  it  have  been  so 

One  year  ago? 

There  is  a  love  that  is  to  last 
When  the  hot  days  of  youth  are  past: 
Such  love  did  a  sweet  maid  bestow 

One  year  ago. 

I  took  a  leaflet  from  her  braid 
And  gave  it  to  another  maid. 
Love,  broken  should  have  been  thy  bow, 

One  year  ago. 

— Landor. 

As  my  horse  whinnied  and  I  turned  into  the  wood  a 
man  walked  boldly  toward  me. 

"My  dear  Donovan,  I  have  been  consoling  your  horse 
during  your  absence.  It's  a  sad  habit  we  haye  fallen  into 
of  wandering  about  at  night.  I  liked  your  dinner,  but 
you  were  rather  too  anxious  to  get  rid  of  me.  I  came  by 
boat  myself  I" 

Gillespie  knocked  the  ashes  from  his  pipe  and  thrust 
255 


256  ROSALIND   AT   RED   GATE 

it  into  his  pocket.  I  was  in  no  frame  of  mind  for  talk 
with,  him,  a  fact  which  he  seemed  to  surmise. 

"It's  late,  for  a  fact,"  he  continued;  "and  we  both 
ought  to  be  in  bed ;  but  our  various  affairs  require  dili 
gence." 

"What  are  you  doing  over  here?"  I  demanded.  I 
was  too  weary  and  too  perplexed  for  his  nonsense,  and 
in  no  mood  for  confidences.  I  needed  time  for  reflection 
and  I  had  no  intention  of  seeking  or  of  imparting  in 
formation  at  this  juncture. 

"Well,  to  tell  the  truth—" 

"You'd  better!" 

"To  tell  the  truth,  my  dear  Donovan,  since  I  left 
your  hospitable  board  I  have  been  deeply  perplexed 
over  some  important  questions  of  human  conduct.  Are 
you  interested  in  human  types?  Have  you  ever  noticed 
the  man  who  summons  all  porters  and  waiters  by  the 
pleasing  name  of  George?  The  name  in  itself  is  respec 
table  enough;  nor  is  its  generic  use  pernicious — a  mat 
ter  of  taste  only.  But  the  same  man  may  be  identified 
otherwise  by  his  proneness  to  consume  the  cabinet  pud 
ding,  the  chocolate  ice-cream  and  the  fruit  in  season 
from  the  chastening  American  bill  of  fare,  after  partak 
ing  impartially  of  the  preliminary  fish,  flesh  and  fowl. 


HOW   THE    NIGHT    ENDED  257 

He  is  confidential  with  hotel  clerks,  affectionate  with 
chambermaids  and  all  telephone  girls  are  Nellie  to  him. 
Types,  my  dear  Donovan — " 

"That's  enough!  I  want  to  know  what  you  are  do 
ing  !"  and  in  my  anger  I  shook  him  by  the  shoulders. 

"Well,  if  you  must  have  it,  after  I  started  to  the  vil 
lage  I  changed  my  mind  about  going,  and  I  was  anxious 
to  see  whether  Holbrook  was  really  here;  so  I  got  a 
launch  and  came  over.  I  stopped  at  the  island  but  saw 
no  one  there,  and  I  came  up  the  creek  until  I  grounded ; 
then  I  struck  inland,  looking  for  the  road.  It  might  save 
us  both  embarrassment,  Irishman,  if  we  give  notice  of 
each  other's  intentions,  particularly  at  night.  I  hung 
about,  thinking  you  might  appear,  and — " 

"You  are  a  poor  liar,  Buttons.  You  didn't  come  here 
alone !" — and  I  drove  my  weary  wits  hard  in  an  effort  to 
account  for  his  unexpected  appearance. 

"All  is  lost;  I  am  discovered,"  he  mocked. 

He  had  himself  freed  my  horse;  I  now  took  the  rein 
and  refastened  it  to  the  tree. 

"Well,  inexplicable  Donovan!" 

I  laughed,  pleased  to  find  that  my  delay  annoyed  him. 
I  was  confident  that  he  was  not  abroad  at  this  hour  for 
nothing,  and  it  again  occurred  to  me  that  we  were  on 


258  ROSALIND   AT   RED    GATE 

different  sides  of  the  matter.  My  weariness  fell  from  me 
like  a  cloak,  as  the  events  of  the  past  hour  flashed  fresh 
in  my  mind. 

"Now,"  I  said,  dropping  the  rein  and  patting  the 
horse's  nose  for  a  moment,  "you  may  go  with  me  or  you 
may  sit  here ;  but  if  you  would  avoid  trouble  don't  try 
to  interfere  with  me." 

I  did  not  doubt  that  he  had  been  sent  to  watch  me; 
and  his  immediate  purpose  seemed  to  be  to  detain  me. 

"I  had  hoped  you  would  sit  down  and  talk  over  the 
Monroe  Doctrine,  or  the  partition  of  Africa,  or  some 
thing  equally  interesting,"  he  remarked.  "You  disap 
point  me,  my  dear  benefactor." 

"And  you  make  me  very  tired  at  the  end  of  a  tiresome 
day,  Gillespie.  Please  continue  to  watch  my  horse ;  Fm 
off." 

He  kept  at  my  elbow,  as  I  expected  he  would,  babbling 
away  with  his  usual  volubility  in  an  effort,  now  frank 
enough,  to  hold  me  back;  but  I  ignored  his  talk  and 
plunged  on  through  the  wood  toward  the  creek.  Henry 
Holbrook  must,  I  argued,  have  had  time  enough  to  get 
out  of  the  creek  and  back  to  the  island ;  but  what  mis 
chief  Gillespie  was  furthering  in  his  behalf  I  could  not 


HOW  THE    NIGHT   ENDED  259 

There  was  a  gradual  rise  toward  the  creek  and  we 
were  obliged  to  cling  to  the  bushes  in  making  our  ascent. 
Suddenly,  as  I  paused  for  breath,  Gillespie  grasped  my 
arm. 

"For  God's  sake,  stop !  This  is  no  affair  of  yours.  On 
my  honor  there's  nothing  that  affects  you  here." 

"I  will  see  whether  there  is  or  not!"  I  exclaimed, 
throwing  him  off,  but  he  kept  close  beside  me. 

We  gained  the  trail  that  ran  along  the  creek,  and  I 
paused  to  listen. 

"Where's  your  launch  ?" 

"Find  it,"  he  replied  succinctly. 

I  had  my  bearings  pretty  well,  and  set  off  toward  the 
lake,  Gillespie  trudging  behind  in  the  narrow  path. 
When  we  had  gone  about  twenty  yards  a  lantern  glim 
mered  below  and  I  heard  voices  raised  in  excited  col 
loquy.  Gillespie  started  forward  at  a  run. 

"Keep  back !  This  is  my  affair !" 

"I'm  making  it  mine,"  I  replied,  and  flung  in  ahead 
of  him. 

I  ran  forward  rapidly,  the  voices  growing  louder,  and 
soon  heard  men  stumbling  and  falling  about  in  conflict. 
A  woman's  voice  now  rose  in  a  sharp  cry : 

"Let  go  of  him !  Let  go  of  him !" 


260  ROSALIND   AT   RED    GATE 

Gillespie  flashed  by  me  down  the  bank  to  the  water's 
edge,  where  the  struggle  ended  abruptly.  I  was  not  far 
behind,  and  I  saw  Henry  Holbrook  in  the  grasp  of  the 
Italian,  who  was  explaining  to  the  woman,  who  held  the 
lantern  high  above  her  head,  that  he  was  only  protecting 
himself.  Gillespie  had  caught  hold  of  the  sailor,  who 
continued  to  protest  his  innocence  of  any  wish  to  injure 
Holbrook ;  and  for  a  moment  we  peered  through  the  dark, 
taking  account  of  one  another. 

"So  it's  you,  is  it?"  said  Henry  Holbrook  as  the  Ital 
ian  freed  him  and  his  eyes  fell  on  me.  "I  should  like 
to  know  what  you  mean  by  meddling  in  my  affairs.  By 
God,  I've  enough  to  do  with  my  own  flesh  and  blood 
without  dealing  with  outsiders." 

Helen  Holbrook  turned  swiftly  and  held  the  lantern 
toward  me,  and  when  she  saw  me  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"You  really  give  yourself  a  great  deal  of  unnecessary 
concern,  Mr.  Donovan." 

"You  are  a  damned  impudent  meddler!"  blurted 
Henry  Holbrook.  "I  have  had  you  watched.  You — 
you— * 

He  darted  toward  me,  but  the  Italian  again  caught 
and  held  him,  and  another  altercation  began  between 
them.  Holbrook  was  wrought  to  a  high  pitch  of  excite- 


HOW   THE    NIGHT    ENDED  261 

ment  and  cursed  everybody  who  had  in  any  way  inter 
fered  with  him. 

"Come,  Helen,"  said  Gillespie,  stepping  to  the  girl's 
side;  and  at  this  Arthur  Holbrook  turned  upon  him 
viciously. 

"You  are  another  meddlesome  outsider.  Your  father 
was  a  pig — a  pig,  do  you  understand  ?  If  it  hadn't  been 
for  him  I  shouldn't  be  here  to-night,  camping  out  like  an 
outlaw.  And  you've  got  to  stop  annoying  my  daughter !" 

Helen  turned  to  the  Italian  and  spoke  to  him  rapidly 
in  his  own  tongue. 

"Yon  must  take  him  away.  He  is  not  himself.  Tell 
him  I  have  done  the  best  I  could.  Tell  him — " 

She  lowered  her  voice  so  that  I  heard  no  more.  Hol 
brook  was  still  heaping  abuse  upon  Gillespie,  who  stood 
submissively  by ;  but  Helen  ran  up  the  bank,  the  lantern 
light  flashing  eerily  about  her.  She  paused  at  the  top, 
waiting  for  Gillespie,  who,  it  was  patent,  had  brought 
her  to  this  rendezvous  and  who  kept  protectingly  at  her 
heels. 

The  Italian  drew  Holbrook  toward  the  boat  that  lay 
at  the  edge  of  the  lake.  He  seemed  to  forget  me  in  his 
anger  against  Gillespie,  and  he  kept  turning  toward  the 
path  down  which  the  girl's  lantern  faintly  twinkled. 


262  EOSALIND   AT   RED    GATE 

Gillespie  kept  on  after  the  girl,  the  lantern  flashing  more 
rarely  through  the  turn  in  the  path,  until  I  caught  the 
threshing  of  his  launch  as  it  swung  out  into  the  lake. 

I  drew  back,  seeing  nothing  to  gain  by  appealing  to 
Holbrook  in  his  present  overwrought  state.  The  Italian 
had  his  hands  full,  and  was  glad,  I  judged,  to  let  me 
alone.  A  moment  later  he  had  pushed  off  his  boat,  and 
I  heard  the  sound  of  oars  receding  toward  the  island. 

I  found  my  horse,  led  hirn  deeper  into  the  wood  and 
threw  off  the  saddle.  Then  I  walked  down  the  road  until 
I  found  a  barn,  and  crawled  into  the  loft  and  slept. 


CHAPTEK   XVIII 

THE  LADY   OF   THE  WHITE  BUTTERFLIES 

TITANIA:  And  pluck  the  wings  from  painted  butterflies, 
To  fan  the  moonbeams  from  his  sleeping  eyes: 
Nod  to  him,  elves,  and  do  him  courtesies. 

PEASEBLOSSOM :    Hail,  mortal! 

— Midsummer  Night's  Dream. 

The  twitter  of  swallows  in  the  eaves  wakened  me  to 
the  first  light  of  day,  and  after  I  had  taken  a  dip  in  the 
creek  I  still  seemed  to  be  sole  proprietor  of  the  world, 
so  quiet  lay  field  and  woodland.  I  followed  the  lake 
shore  to  a  fishermen's  camp,  where,  in  the  good  comrade 
ship  of  outdoors  men  the  world  over,  I  got  bread  and 
coffee  and  no  questions  asked.  I  smoked  a  pipe  with  the 
fishermen  to  kill  time,  and  it  was  still  but  a  trifle  after 
six  o'clock  when  I  started  for  Eed  Gate.  My  mood  was 
not  for  the  open  road,  and  I  sought  woodland  paths,  that 
I  might  loiter  the  more.  With  squirrels  scampering  be 
fore  me,  and  attended  by  bird-song  and  the  morning 
drum-beat  of  the  woodpecker,  I  strode  on  until  I  came 
out  upon  a  series  of  rough  pastures,  separated  by  stake- 

263 


264:  ROSALIND   AT   RED   GATE 

and-rider  fences  that  crawled  sinuously  through  tangles 
of  blackberries  and  wild  roses.  As  I  tramped  along  a 
cow-path  that  traversed  these  pastures,  the  dew  sparkled 
on  the  short  grass,  and  wings  whirred  and  dipped  in 
salutation  before  me.  My  memories  of  the  night  van 
ished  in  the  perfection  of  the  day;  I  went  forth  to  no 
renewal  of  acquaintance  with  shadows,  or  with  the  lurk 
ing  figures  in  a  dark  drama,  but  to  enchantments  that 
were  fresh  with  life  and  light.  Barred  gates  separated 
these  fallow  fields,  and  I  passed  through  one,  crossed 
the  intermediate  pasture,  and  opened  the  gate  of  the 
third.  Before  me  lay  a  field  of  daisies,  bobbing  amid 
wild  grass,  the  morning  wind  softly  stirring  the  myriad 
disks,  so  that  the  whole  had  the  effect  of  quiet  motion. 
The  path  led  on  again,  but  more  faintly  here.  A  line 
of  sycamores  two  hundred  yards  to  my  right  marked  the 
bed  of  the  Tippecanoe ;  and  on  my  left  hand,  beyond  a 
walnut  grove,  a  little  filmy  dust-cloud  hung  above  the 
hidden  highway.  The  meadow  was  a  place  of  utter 
peace;  the  very  air  spoke  of  holy  things.  I  thrust  my 
cap  into  my  jacket  pocket  and  stood  watching  the  wind 
crisp  the  flowers.  Then  my  attention  wandered  to  the 
mad  antics  of  a  squirrel  that  ran  along  the  fence. 

When  I  turnec1  to  the  field  ?<xain  I  saw  Rosalind 


Three  white  butterflies  fluttered  about  her  head.     Page  265 


WHITE    BUTTERFLIES  265 

coming  toward  me  along  the  path,,  clad  in  white,  hatless, 
and  her  hands  lightly  brushing  the  lush  grass  that 
seemed  to  leap  up  to  touch  them.  She  had  not  seen  me, 
and  I  drew  back  a  little  for  love  of  the  picture  she  made. 
Three  white  butterflies  fluttered  about  her  head,  like  an 
appointed  guard  of  honor,  and  she  caught  at  them  with 
her  hands,  turning  her  head  to  watch  their  staggering 
flight. 

She  paused  abruptly  midway  of  the  daisies,  and  I 
walked  toward  her  slowly — it  must  have  been  slowly — 
and  I  think  we  were  both  glad  of  a  moment's  respite  in 
which  to  study  each  other.  Then  she  spoke  at  once,  as 
though  our  meeting  had  been  prearranged. 

"I  hoped  I  should  see  you,"  she  said  gravely. 

"I  had  every  intention  of  seeing  you!  I  was  killing 
time  until  I  felt  I  might  decently  lift  the  latch  of  Eed 
Gate." 

She  inspected  me  with  her  hands  clasped  behind  her. 

"Please  don't  look  at  me  like  that!"  I  laughed.  "1 
camped  in  a  barn  last  night  for  fear  I  shouldn't  get  here 
in  time." 

"I  wish  to  speak  to  you  for  a  few  minutes — to  tell  you 
what  you  may  have  guessed  about  us — my  father  and 


266  KOSALIND   AT   EED   GATE 

"Yes ;  if  you  like ;  but  only  to  help  you  if  I  can.  It  is 
not  necessary  for  you  to  tell  me  anything." 

She  turned  and  led  the  way  across  the  daisy  field.  She 
walked  swiftly,  holding  back  her  skirts  from  the  crowd 
ing  flowers,  traversed  the  garden  of  Eed  Gate,  and  con 
tinued  down  to  the  house-boat. 

"We  can  be  quiet  here,"  she  said,  throwing  open  the 
door.  "My  father  is  at  Tippecanoe  village,  shipping  one 
of  his  canoes.  We  are  early  risers,  you  see !" 

The  little  sitting-room  adjoining  the  shop  was  calm 
and  cool,  and  the  ripple  of  the  creek  was  only  an  empha 
sis  of  the  prevailing  rural  quiet.  She  sat  down  by  the 
table  in  a  red-cushioned  wicker  chair  and  folded  her 
hands  in  her  lap  and  smiled  a  little  as  she  saw  me  re 
garding  her  fixedly.  I  suppose  I  had  expected  to  find 
her  clad  in  saffron  robes  or  in  doublet  and  hose,  but  the 
very  crispness  of  her  white  pique  spoke  delightfully  of 
present  times  and  manners.  My  glance  rested  on  the 
emerald  ring ;  then  I  looked  into  her  eyes  again. 

"You  see  I  am  really  very  different,"  she  smiled. 
"I'm  not  the  same  person  at  all !" 

"No;  it's  wonderful — wonderful !"  And  I  still  stared. 

She  grew  grave  again. 

"I  have  important  things  to  say  to  you,  but  it's  just 


WHITE    BUTTERFLIES  267 

as  well  for  you  to  see  me  in  the  broadest  of  daylight,  so 
that" — she  pondered  a  moment,  as  though  to  be  sure  of 
expressing  herself  clearly — "so  that  when  you  see  Helen 
Holbrook  in  an  hour  or  so  in  that  pretty  garden  by  the 
lake  you  will  understand  that  it  was  not  really  Rosalind 
after  all  that — that — amused  you  \" 

"But  the  daylight  is  not  helping  that  idea.  You  are 
marvelously  alike,  and  yet — "  I  floundered  miserably  in 
my  uncertainly. 

"Then," — and  she  smiled  at  my  discomfiture,  "if  you 
can't  tell  us  apart,  it  makes  no  difference  whether  you 
ever  see  me  again  or  not.  You  see,  Mr. — but  did  you 
ever  tell  me  what  your  name  is  ?  Well,  I  know,  it,  any 
how,  Mr.  Donovan." 

The  little  work-table  was  between  us,  and  on  it  lay  the 
foil  which  her  father  had  snatched  from  the  wall  the 
night  before.  I  still  stood,  gazing  down  at  Rosalind. 
Fashion,  I  saw,  had  done  something  for  the  amazing  re 
semblance.  She  wore  her  hair  in  the  pompadour  of  the 
day,  with  exactly  Helen's  sweep;  and  her  white  gown 
was  identical  with  that  worn  that  year  by  thousands  of 
young  women.  She  had  even  the  same  gestures,  the  same 
little  way  of  resting  her  cheek  against  her  hand  that 
Helen  had ;  and  before  she  spoke  she  moved  her  head  a 


268  KOSALIKD   AT   EED    GATE 

trifle  to  one  side,  with  a  pretty  suggestion  of  just  having 
been  startled  from  a  reverie,,  that  was  Helen's  trick  pre 
cisely. 

She  forgot  for  a  moment  our  serious  affairs,  to  which 
I  was  not  in  the  least  anxious  to  turn,  in  her  amusement 
at  my  perplexity. 

"It  must  be  even  more  extraordinary  than  I  imagined. 
I  have  not  seen  Helen  for  seven  years.  She  is  my  cousin ; 
and  when  we  were  children  together  at  Stamford  our 
mothers  used  to  dress  us  alike  to  further  the  resem 
blance.  Our  mothers,  you  may  not  know,  were  not  only 
sisters ;  they  were  twin  sisters !  But  Helen  is,  I  think,  a 
trifle  taller  than  I  am.  This  little  mark" — she  touched 
the  peak — "is  really  very  curious.  Both  our  mothers 
and  our  grandmother  had  it.  And  you  see  that  I  speak 
a  little  more  rapidly  than  she  does — at  least  that  used  to 
be  the  case.  I  don't  know  my  grown-up  cousin  at  all. 
We  probably  have  different  tastes,  temperaments,  and  all 
that." 

"I  am  positive  of  it  I"  I  exclaimed ;  yet  I  was  really 
sure  of  nothing,  save  that  I  was  talking  to  an  exceed 
ingly  pretty  girl,  who  was  amazingly  like  another  very 
pretty  girl  whom  I  knew  much  better. 

"You  are  her  guardian,  so  to  speak,  Mr.  Donovan. 


WHITE   BUTTERFLIES  269 

You  are  taking  care  of  my  Aunt  Pat  and  my  cousin. 
Just  how  that  came  about  I  don't  know." 

"They  were  sent  to  St.  Agatha's  by  Father  Stoddard, 
an  old  friend  of  mine.  They  had  suffered  many  annoy 
ances,  to  put  it  mildly,  and  came  here  to  get  away  from 
their  troubles/' 

"Yes;  I  understand.  Uncle  Henry  has  acted  out 
rageously.  I  have  not  ranged  the  country  at  night  for 
nothing.  I  have  even  learned  a  few  things  from  you," 
she  laughed.  "And  you  must  continue  to  serve  Aunt 
Patricia  and  my  cousin.  You  see/' — and  she  smiled  her 
grave  smile — "my  father  and  I  are  an  antagonistic  ele 
ment." 

"No;  not  as  between  you  and  Miss  Patricia!  I'm  sure 
of  that.  It  is  Henry  Holbrook  that  I  am  to  protect  her 
from.  You  and  your  father  do  not  enter  into  it." 

"If  you  don't  mind  telling  me,  Mr.  Donovan,  I  should 
like  to  know  whether  Aunt  Pat  has  mentioned  us." 

"Only  once,  when  I  first  saw  her  and  she  explained 
why  she  had  come.  She  seemed  greatly  moved  when  she 
spoke  of  your  father.  Since  then  she  has  never  referred 
to  him.  But  the  day  we  cruised  up  to  Battle  Orchard 
and  Henry  Holbrook's  man  tried  to  smash  our  launch, 
she  was  shaken  out  of  herself,  and  she  declared  war  when 


270  ROSALIND   AT   BED   GATE 

we  got  home.  Then  I  was  on  the  lake  with  her  the  night 
of  the  carnival.  Helen  did  not  go  with.  us.  And  when 
you  paddled  by  us,  Miss  Pat  was  quite  disturbed  at  the 
sight  of  you ;  but  she  thought  it  was  an  illusion,  and — I 
thought  it  was  Helen !" 

"I  have  been  home  only  a  few  weeks,  but  I  came  just 
in  time  to  be  with  father  in  his  troubles.  My  uncle's 
enmity  is  very  bitter,  as  you  have  seen.  I  do  not  under 
stand  it.  Father  has  told  me  little  of  their  difficulties; 
but  I  know/'  she  said,  lifting  her  head  proudly,  "I  know 
that  my  father  has  done  nothing  dishonorable.  He  has 
told  me  so,  and  I  am  content  with  that." 

I  bowed,  not  knowing  what  to  say. 

"I  have  been  here  only  once  or  twice  before,  and  for 
short  visits  only.  Most  of  the  time  I  have  been  at  a  con 
vent  in  Canada,  where  I  was  known  as  Eosalind  Hart- 
ridge.  Eosalind,  you  know,  is  really  my  name:  I  was 
named  for  Helen's  mother.  The  Sisters  took  pity  on  my 
loneliness,  and  were  very  kind  to  me.  But  now  I  am 
never  going  to  leave  my  father  again." 

She  spoke  with  no  unkindness  or  bitterness,  but  with 
a  gravity  born  of  deep  feeling.  I  marked  now  the  lighter 
timbre  of  her  voice,  that  was  quite  different  from  her 
cousin's ;  and  she  spoke  more  rapidly,  as  she  had  said,  her 


WHITE    BUTTERFLIES' 

naturally  quick  speech  catching  at  times  the  cadence  of 
cultivated  French.  And  she  was  a  simpler  nature — I  felt 
that ;  she  was  really  very  unlike  Helen. 

"Yon  manage  a  canoe  pretty  well,"  I  ventkred,  still 
studying  her  face,  her  voice,  her  ways,  eagerly. 

'That  was  very  foolish,  wasn't  it? — my  running  in 
behind  the  procession  that  way !"  and  she  laughed  softly 
at  the  recollection.  "But  that  was  professional  pride! 
That  was  one  of  my  father's  best  canoes,  and  he  helped 
me  to  decorate  it.  He  takes  a  great  delight  in  his  work; 
it's  all  he  has  left !  And  I  wanted  to  show  those  people 
at  Port  Annandale  what  a  really  fine  canoe — a  genuine 
Hartridge — was  like.  I  did  not  expect  to  run  into  you 
or  Aunt  Pat." 

"You  should  have  gone  on  and  claimed  the  prize.  It 
was  yours  of  right.  When  your  star  vanished  I  thought 
the  world  had  come  to  an  end." 

"It  hadn't,  you  see!  I  put  out  the  lights  so  that  I 
could  get  home  unseen." 

"You  gave  us  a  shock.  Please  don't  do  it  again;  and 
please,  if  you  and  your  cousin  are  to  meet,  kindly  let  it 
be  on  solid  ground.  I'm  a  little  afraid,  even  now,  that 
you  are  a  lady  of  dreams." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it!    I  enjoy  a  sound  appetite;  I  can 


272  ROSALIND   AT   BED    GATE 

carry  a  canoe  like  a  Canadian  guide;  I  am  as  good  a 
fencer  as  my  father;  and  Fm  not  afraid  of  the  dark. 
You  see,  in  the  long  vacations  up  there  in  Canada  I 
lived  out  of  doors  and  I  shouldn't  mind  staying  on  here 
always.  I  like  to  paddle  a  canoe,  and  I  know  how  to  cast 
a.  fly,  and  I've  shot  ducks  from  a  blind.  You  see  how 
very  highly  accomplished  I  am!  Now,  my  cousin 
Helen—" 

"Well — ?"  and  I  was  glad  to  hear  her  happy  laugh. 
Sorrow  and  loneliness  had  not  stifled  the  spirit  of  mis 
chief  in  her,  and  she  enjoyed  vexing  me  with  references 
to  her  cousin. 

I  walked  the  length  of  the  room  and  looked  out  upon 
the  creek  that  ran  singing  through  the  little  vale.  They 
were  a  strange  family,  these  Holbrooks,  and  the  per 
plexities  of  their  affairs  multiplied.  How  to  prevent 
further  injury  and  heartache  and  disaster;  how  to  re 
store  this  girl  and  her  exiled  father  to  the  life  from 
which  they  had  vanished ;  and  how  to  save  Miss  Pat  and 
Helen, — these  things  possessed  my  mind  and  heart.  I 
sat  down  and  faced  Eosalind  across  the  table.  She  had 
taken  up  a  bright  bit  of  ribbon  from  the  work-basket 
and  was  slipping  it  back  and  forth  through  her  fingers. 

"The  name  Gillespie  was  mentioned  here  last  night. 


WHITE    BUTTERFLIES  273 

Can  you  tell  me  just  how  he  was  concerned  in  your 
father's  affairs?"  I  asked. 

"He  was  the  largest  creditor  of  the  Holbrook  bank. 
He  lived  at  Stamford,  where  we  all  used  to  live." 

"This  Gillespie  had  a  son.  I  suppose  he  inherits  his 
father's  claims." 

She  laughed  outright. 

"I  have  heard  of  him.  He  is  a  remarkable  character, 
it  seems,  who  does  ridiculous  things.  He  did  as  a  child : 
I  remember  him  very  well  as  a  droll  boy  at  Stamford, 
who  was  always  in  mischief.  I  had  forgotten  all  about 
him  until  I  saw  an  amusing  account  of  him  in  a  news 
paper  a  few  months  ago.  He  had  been  arrested  for  fast 
driving  in  Central  Park ;  and  the  next  day  he  went  back 
to  the  park  with  a  boy's  toy  wagon  and  team  of  goats,  as 
a  joke  on  the  policeman*" 

"I  can  well  believe  it!  The  fellow's  here>  staying  at 
the  inn  at  Annandale." 

"So  I  understand.  To  be  frank,  I  have  seen  him  and 
talked  with  him.  We  have  had,  in  fact,  several  interest 
ing  interviews," — and  she  laughed  merrily. 

"Where  did  all  this  happen?" 

"Once,  out  on  the  lake,  when  we  were  both  prowling 
about  in  canoes.  I  talked  to  him,  but  made  him  keep  his 


274  ROSALIND   AT   RED    GATE 

distance.  I  dared  him  to  race  me,  and  finally  paddled 
off  and  left  him.  Then  another  time,  on  the  shore  near 
St.  Agatha's.  I  was  taking  an  observation  of  the  school 
garden  from  the  bluff,  and  Mr.  Gillespie  came  walking 
through  the  woods  and  made  love  to  me.  He  came  so 
suddenly  that  I  couldn't  run,  but  I  saw  that  he  took  me 
for  Helen,  in  broad  daylight,  and  I — I — " 

"Well,  of  course  you  scorned  him — you  told  him  to  be 
gone.  You  did  that  much  for  her." 

"No,  I  didn't.  I  liked  his  love-making;  it  was  un 
affected  and  simple." 

"Oh,  yes !  It  would  naturally  be  simple !" 

"That  is  brutal.  He's  clever,  and  earnest,  and  amus 
ing.  But—"  and  her  brow  contracted,  "but  if  he  is  seek 
ing  my  father — " 

"Rest  assured  he  is  not.  He  is  in  love  with  your 
cousin — that's  the  reason  for  his  being  here." 

"But  that  does  not  help  my  father's  case  any." 

"We  will  see  about  that.  You  are  right  about  him; 
he's  really  a  most  amusing  person,  and  not  a  fool,  except 
for  his  own  amusement.  He  is  shrewd  enough  to  keep 
clear  of  Miss  Pat,  who  dislikes  him  intensely  on  his 
father's  account.  She  feels  that  the  senior  Gillespie  was 
the  cause  of  all  her  troubles,  but  I  don't  know  just  why. 


WHITE   BUTTEBFLIES  275 

She's  strongly  prejudiced  against  the  young  man,  and 
his  whimsicalities  do  not  appeal  to  her.3' 

"I  suppose  Helen  cares  nothing  for  him;  he  acted 
toward  me  as  though  he'd  been  crushed,  and  I — I  tried 
to  be  nice  to  him  to  make  up  for  it." 

"That  was  nice  of  you,  very  nice  of  you,  Kosalind.  I 
hope  you  will  keep  right  on  the  way  you've  begun.  Now 
I  must  ask  you  not  to  leave  here,  and  not  to  allow  your 
father  to  leave  unless  I  know  it." 

"But  you  have  your  hands  full  without  us.  Your  first 
obligation  is  to  Aunt  Pat  and  Helen.  My  father  and  I 
have  merely  stumbled  in  where  we  were  not  invited. 
You  and  I  had  better  say  good-by  now." 

"I  am  not  anxious  to  say  good-by,"  I  answered  lamely, 
and  she  laughed  at  me. 

Helen,  I  reflected,  did  not  laugh  so  readily.  Eosalind 
was  beautiful,  she  was  charming ;  and  yet  her  likeness  to 
Helen  failed  in  baffling  particulars.  Even  as  she  came 
through  the  daisy  meadow  there  had  been  a  difference — 
at  least  I  seemed  to  realize  it  now.  The  white  butterflies 
symbolized  her  Ariel-like  quality;  for  the  life  of  me  I 
could  not  associate  those  pale,  fluttering  vagrants  with 
Helen  Holbrook. 

"We  met  under  the  star-r-rs,  Mr.  Donovan"  (this  was 


276  KOSALIND   AT   RED    GATE 

impudent;  my  own  r's  trill,  they  say),  "at  the  stone  seat 
and  by  the  boat-house,  and  we  talked  Shakespeare  and 
had  a  beautiful  time, — all  because  you  thought  I  was 
Helen.  In  your  anxiety  to  be  with  her  you  couldn't  see 
that  I  haven't  quite  her  noble  height, — I'm  an  inch 
shorter.  I  gave  you  every  chance  there  at  the  boat-house, 
to  see  your  mistake ;  but  you  wouldn't  have  it  so.  And 
you  let  me  leave  you  there  while  I  went  back  alone  across 
the  lake  to  Red  Gate,  right  by  Battle  Orchard,  which 
is  haunted  by  Indian  ghosts.  You  are  a  most  gallant  gen 
tleman!" 

"When  you  are  quite  done,  Rosalind !" 

"I  don't  know  when  I  shall  have  a  chance  again,  Mr. 
Donovan,"  she  went  on  provokingly.  "I  learned  a  good 
deal  from  you  in  those  interviews,  but  I  did  have  to  do  a 
lot  of  guessing.  That  was  a  real  inspiration  of  mine,  to 
insist  on  playing  that  Helen  by  night  and  Helen  by  day 
were  different  personalities,  and  that  you  must  not  speak 
to  the  one  of  the  other.  That  saved  complications,  be 
cause  you  did  keep  to  the  compact,  didn't  you  ?" 

I  assented,  a  little  grudgingly ;  and  my  thoughts  went 
back  with  reluctant  step  to  those  early  affairs  of  mine, 
which  I  have  already  frankly  disclosed  in  this  chronicle, 
and  I  wondered,  with  her  counterpart  before  me,  how 


WHITE   BUTTERFLIES  277 

much.  Helen  really  meant  to  me.  Rosalind  studied  me 
with  her  frank,  merry  eyes ;  then  she  bent  forward  and 
addressed  me  with  something  of  that  prescient  air  with 
which  my  sisters  used  to  lecture  me. 

"Mr.  Donovan,  I  fear  you  are  a  little  mixed  in  your 
mind  this  morning,  and  I  propose  to  set  you  straight." 

"About  what,  if  you  please?" 

The  conceit  in  man  always  rises  and  struts  at  the  ap 
proach  of  a  woman's  sympathy.  My  body  ached,  the 
knife  slash  across  my  ribs  burnt,  and  I  felt  myself  a 
sadly  abused  person  as  Rosalind  addressed  me. 

"I  understand  all  about  you,  Mr.  Donovan/' 

My  plumage  fell ;  I  did  not  want  to  be  understood,  I 
told  myself;  but  I  said: 

"Please  go  on." 

"I  can  tell  you  exactly  why  it  is  that  Helen  has  taken 
so  strong  hold  of  your  imagination, — why,  in  fact,  you 
are  in  love  with  her." 

"Not  that— not  that." 

She  snatched  the  foil  from  the  table  and  cut  the  air 
with  it  several  times  as  I  started  toward  her.  Then  she 
stamped  her  foot  and  saluted  me. 

"Stand  where  you  are,  sir !  Your  race,  Mr.  Donovan, 
has  a  bad  reputation  in  matters  of  the  heart.  For  a  mo- 


278    •         KOSALIND   AT   BED    GATE 

ment  you  thought  you  were  in  love  with  me ;  but  you  are 
not,  and  you  are  not  going  to  be.  You  see,  I  understand 
you  perfectly." 

"That's  what  my  sisters  used  to  tell  me." 

"Precisely!  And  I'm  another  one  of  your  sisters — 
you  must  have  scores  of  them ! — and  I  expect  you  to  be 
increasingly  proud  of  me." 

"Of  course  I  admire  Helen — "  I  began,  I  fear,  a  little 
sheepishly. 

"And  you  admire  most  what  you  don't  understand 
about  her !  Now  that  you  examine  me  in  the  light  of  day 
you  see  what  a  tremendous  difference  there  is  between 
us.  I  am  altogether  obvious;  I  am  not  the  least  bit 
subtle.  But  Helen  puzzles  and  thwarts  you.  She  finds 
keen  delight  in  antagonizing  you;  and  she  as  much  as 
says  to  you,  'Mr.  Donovan,  you  are  a  frightfully  con 
ceited  person,  and  you  have  had  many  adventures  by  sea 
and  shore,  and  you  think  you  know  all  about  human  na 
ture  and  women,  but  I — I — am  quite  as  wise  and  re 
sourceful  as  you  are,  and  whether  I  am  right  or  wrong 
I'm  going  to  fight  you,  fight  you,  fight  you !'  There,  Mr. 
Laurance  Donovan,  is  the  whole  matter  in  a  nut-shell, 
and  I  should  like  you  to  know  that  I  am  not  at  all  de 
ceived  by  you.  You  did  me  a  great  service  last  night, 


WHITE    BUTTERFLIES  279 

and  you  would  serve  me  again,  I  am  confident  of  it ;  and 
I  hope,  when  all  these  troubles  are  over,  that  we  shall 
continue — my  father,  and  you  and  I — the  best  friends 
in  the  world/' 

I  can  not  deny  that  I  was  a  good  deal  abashed  by  this 
declaration  spoken  without  coquetry,  and  with  a  sin 
cerity  of  tone  and  manner  that  seemed  conclusive. 

I  began  stammering  some  reply,  but  she  recurred  ab 
ruptly  to  the  serious  business  that  hung  over  us. 

"I  know  you  will  do  what  you  can  for  Aunt  Pat.  I 
wish  you  would  tell  her,  if  you  think  it  wise,  that  father 
is  here.  They  should  understand  each  other.  And 
Helen,  my  splendid,  courageous,  beautiful  cousin, — you 
see  I  don't  grudge  her  even  her  better  looks,  or  that  in 
trepid  heart  that  makes  us  so  different.  I  am  sure  you 
can  manage  all  these  things  in  the  best  possible  way. 
And  now  I  must  find  my  father,  and  tell  him  that  you 
are  going  to  arrange  a  meeting  with  Aunt  Pat,  and  talk 
to  him  of  our  future." 

She  led  the  way  up  to  the  garden,  and  as  I  struck  off 
into  the  road  she  waved  her  hand  to  me,  standing  under 
the  overhanging  sign  that  proclaimed  Hartridge,  the 
canoe-maker,  at  Bed  Gate. 


CHAPTEE   XIX 

HELEN   TAKES   ME  TO  TASK 

My  Lady's  name,  when  I  hear  strangers  use, 
Not  meaning  her,  to  me  sounds  lax  misuse; 

I  love  none  but  my  Lady's  name; 

Maude,  Grace,  Rose,  Marian,  all  the  same, 
Are  harsh,  or  blank  and  tame. 

******* 

Fresh  beauties,  howsoe'er  she  moves,  are  stirr'd: 
As  the  sunn'd  bosom  of  a  humming-bird 
At  each  pant  lifts  some  fiery  hue, 
Fierce  gold,  bewildering  green  or  blue; 
The  same,  yet  ever  new. 

— Thomas  Woolner. 

I  paced  the  breezy  terrace  at  Glenarm,  studying  my 
problems,  and  stumbling  into  new  perplexities  at  every 
turn.  My  judgment  has  usually  served  me  poorly  in  my 
own  affairs,  which  I  have  generally  confided  to  Good 
Luck,  that  most  amiable  of  goddesses ;  and  I  glanced  out 
upon  the  lake  with  some  notion,  perhaps,  of  seeing  her 
fairy  sail  drifting  toward  me.  But  there,  to  my  vexa 
tion,  hung  the  Stiletto,  scarcely  moving  in  the  indolent 
air  of  noon.  There  was,  I  felt  again,  something  sinister 

280 


;  HELEN    TAKES   ME    TO    TASK         281 

in  the  very  whiteness  of  its  pocket-handkerchief  of 
canvas  as  it  stole  lazily  before  the  wind.  Did  Miss  Pat, 
in  the  school  beyond  the  wall,  see  and  understand,  or 
was  the  yacht  hanging  there  as  a  menace  or  stimulus  to 
Helen  Holbrook,  to  keep  her  alert  in  her  fathers  be 
half?. 

"There  are  ladies  to  see  you,  sir/'  announced  the 
maid,  and  I  found  Helen  and  Sister  Margaret  waiting 
in  the  library. 

The  Sister,  as  though  by  prearrangement,  went  to  the 
farther  end  of  the  room  and  took  up  a  book. 

"I  wish  to  see  you  alone,"  said  Helen,  "and  I  didn't 
want  Aunt  Pat  to  know  I  came/'  and  she  glanced  toward 
Sister  Margaret,  whose  brown  habit  and  nun's  bonnet 
had  merged  into  the  shadows  of  a  remote  alcove. 

The  brim  of  Helen's  white-plumed  hat  made  a  little 
dusk  about  her  eyes.  Pink  and  white  became  her;  she 
put  aside  her  parasol  and  folded  her  ungloved  hands, 
and  then,  as  she  spoke,  her  head  went  almost  impercep 
tibly  to  one  side,  and  I  found  myself  bending  forward  as 
I  studied  the  differences  between  her  and  the  girl  on  the 
Tippecanoe.  Helen's  lips  were  fuller  and  ruddier,  her 
eyes  darker,  her  lashes  longer.  But  there  was  another 
difference,  too  subtle  for  my  powers  of  analysis;  some- 


282  ROSALIND   AT   BED    GATE 

thing  less  obvious  than  the  length  of  lash  or  the  color  of 
eyes ;  and  I  was  not  yet  ready  to  give  a  name  to  it.  Of 
one  thing  I  was  sure:  my  pulses  quickened  before  her; 
and  her  glance  thrilled  through  me  as  Rosalind's  had 
not. 

"Mr.  Donovan,  I  have  come  to  appeal  to  you.  to  put  an 
end  to  this  miserable  affair  into  which  we  have  brought 
you.  My  own  position  has  grown  too  difficult,  too  equiv 
ocal  to  be  borne  any  longer.  You  saw  from  my  father's 
conduct  last  night  how  hopeless  it  is  to  try  to  reason 
with  him.  He  has  brooded  upon  his  troubles  until  he  is 
half  mad.  And  I  learned  from  him  what  I  had  not 
dreamed  of,  that  my  Uncle  Arthur  is  here — here,  of  all 
places.  I  suppose  you  know  that." 

"Yes;  but  it  is  a  mere  coincidence.  It  was  a  good 
hiding-place  for  him,  as  well  as  for  us." 

"It  is  very  unfortunate  for  all  of  us  that  he  should  be 
here.  I  had  hoped  he  would  bury  himself  where  he 
would  never  be  heard  of  again!"  she  said,  and  anger 
burned  for  a  moment  in  her  face.  "If  he  has  any  shame 
left,  I  should  think  he  would  leave  here  at  once !" 

"It's  to  be  remembered,  Miss  Holbrook,  that  he  came 
first;  and  I  am  quite  satisfied  that  your  father  sought 
him  here  before  you  and  your  aunt  came  to  Annandale. 


HELEN    TAKES    ME    TO    TASK         283 

It  seems  to  me  the  equity  lies  with  your  uncle — the  creek 
as  a  hiding-place  belongs  to  him  by  right  of  discovery." 

She  smiled  ready  agreement  to  this,  and  I  felt  that 
she  had  come  to  win  support  for  some  plan  of  her  own. 
She  had  never  been  more  amiable;  certainly  she  had 
never  been  lovelier. 

"You  are  quite  right.  We  had  all  of  us  better  go  and 
leave  him  in  peace.  What  is  it  he  does  there — runs  a 
ferry  or  manages  a  boat-house  ?" 

"He  is  a  canoe-maker.,"  I  said  dryly,  "with  more  than 
a  local  reputation." 

Her  tone  changed  at  once. 

"I'm  glad ;  I'm  very  glad  he  has  escaped  from  his  old 
ways;  for  all  our  sakes,"  she  added,  with  a  little  sigh. 
"And  poor  Eosalind !  You  may  not  know  that  he  has  a 
daughter.  She  is  about  a  year  younger  than  I.  She  must 
have  had  a  sad  time  of  it.  I  was  named  for  her  mother 
and  she  for  mine.  If  you  should  meet  her,  Mr.  Donovan, 
I  wish  you  would  tell  her  how  sorry  I  am  not  to  be  able 
to  see  her.  But  Aunt  Pat  must  not  know  that  Uncle 
Arthur  is  here.  I  think  she  has  tried  to  forget  him,  and 
her  troubles  with  my  father  have  effaced  everything  else. 
I  hope  you  will  manage  that,  for  me;  that  Aunt  Pat 
shall  not  know  that  Uncle  Arthur  and  Rosalind  are  here. 


284  KOSALIND   AT   BED    GATE 

It  could  only  distress  her.  It  would  be  opening  a  book 
that  she  believes  closed  forever." 

Her  solicitude  for  her  aunt's  peace  of  mind,  spoken 
with  eyes  averted  and  in  a  low  tone,  lacked  nothing. 

"I  have  seen  your  cousin,"  I  said.  "I  saw  her,  in  fact, 
this  morning." 

"Kosalind?  Then  you  can  tell  me  whether — whether 
I  am  really  so  like  her  as  they  used  to  think !" 

"You  are  rather  like!"  I  replied  lightly.  "But  I  shall 
not  attempt  to  tell  you  how.  It  would  not  do — it  would 
involve  particulars  that  might  prove  embarrassing. 
There  are  times  when  even  I  find  discretion  better  than 
frankness." 

"You  wish  to  save  my  feelings,"  she  laughed.  "But  I 
am  really  taller !" 

"By  an  inch — she  told  me  that !" 

"Then  you  have  seen  her  more  than  once  ?" 

"Yes ;  more  than  twice  even." 

"Then  you  must  tell  me  wherein  we  are  alike;  I 
should  really  like  to  know." 

"I  have  told  you  I  can't ;  it's  beyond  my  poor  powers. 
I  will  tell  you  this,  though — " 

"Well?" 

"That  I  think  you  both  delightful." 


HELEN    TAKES    ME    TO    TASK         285 

"I  am  disappointed  in  you.  I  thought  you  a  man  of 
courage,  Mr.  Donovan." 

"Even  brave  men  falter  at  the  cannon's  mouth !" 

"You  are  undoubtedly  an  Irishman,  Mr.  Donovan.  I 
am  sorry  we  shan't  have  any  more  tennis." 

"You  have  said  so,  Miss  Holbrook,  not  I." 

She  laughed,  and  th'en  glanced  toward  the  brown 
figure  of  Sister  Margaret,  and  was  silent  for  a  moment, 
while  the  old  clock  on  the  stair  boomed  out  the  half- 
hour  and  was  answered  cheerily  by  the  pretty  tinkle  of 
the  chapel  chime.  I  counted  four  poppy-leaves  that 
fluttered  free  from  a  bowl  on  the  book-shelf  above  her 
head  and  lazily  fell  to  the  floor  at  her  feet. 

"I  had  hoped,"  she  said,  "that  we  were  good  friends, 
Mr.  Donovan." 

"I  have  believed  that  we  were,  Miss  Holbrook." 

"You  must  see  that  this  situation  must  terminate,  that 
we  are  now  at  a,  crisis.  You  can  understand — I  need  not 
tell  you — how  fully  my  sympathies  lie  with  my  father; 
it  could  not  be  otherwise." 

"That  is  only  natural.  I  have  nothing  to  say  on  that 
point." 

"And  you  can  understand,  too,  that  it  has  not  been 
easy  for  me  to  be  dependent  upon  Aunt  Pat.  You  don't 


286  EOSALIND   AT   RED    GATE 

know — I  have  no  intention  of  talking  against  her — but 
you  can't  blame  me  for  thinking  her  hard — a  little  hard 
on  my  father." 

I  nodded. 

"I  am  sorry,  very  sorry,  that  you  should  have  these 
troubles,  Miss  Holbrook." 

"I  know  you  are,"  she  replied  eagerly,  and  her  eyes 
brightened.  "Your  sympathy  has  meant  so  much  to 
Aunt  Pat  and  me.  And  now,  before  worse  things  hap 
pen—" 

"Worse  things  must  not  happen !" 

"Then  we  must  put  an  end  to  it  all,  Mr.  Donovan. 
There  is  only  one  way.  My  father  will  never  leave  here 
until  Aunt  Pat  has  settled  with  him.  And  it  is  his  right 
to  demand  it,"  she  hurried  on.  "I  would  have  you  know 
that  he  is  not  as  black  as  he  has  been  painted.  He  has 
been  his  own  worst  enemy;  and  Uncle  Arthur's  ill- 
doings  must  not  be  charged  to  him.  But  he  has  been 
wrong,  terribly  wrong,  in  his  conduct  toward  Aunt  Pat. 
I  do  not  deny  that,  and  he  does  not.  But  it  is  only  a 
matter  of  money,  and  Aunt  Pat  has  plenty  of  it;  and 
there  can  be  no  question  of  honor  between  Uncle  Arthur 
and  father.  It  was  Uncle  Arthur's  act  that  caused  all 
this  trouble;  father  has  told  me  the  whole  story.  Quite 


HELEN    TAKES    ME    TO    TASK         287 

likely  father  would  make  no  good  use  of  his  money — I 
will  grant  that.  But  think  of  the  strain  of  these  years 
on  all  of  us ;  think  of  what  it  has  meant  to  me,  to  have 
this  cloud  hanging  over  my  life !  It  is  dreadful — beyond 
any  words  it  is  hideous ;  and  I  can't  stand  it  any  longer, 
not  another  week — not  another  day !  It  must  end  now 
and  here." 

Her  tear-filled  eyes  rested  upon  me  pleadingly,  and  a 
soh  caught  her  throat  as  she  tried  to  go  on. 

"But—"  I  began. 

"Please — please!"  she  broke  in,  touching  her  hand 
kerchief  to  her  eyes  and  smiling  appealingly.  "I  am 
asking  very  little  of  you,  after  all." 

"Yes,  it  is  little  enough;  but  it  seems  to  me  a  futile 
interference.  If  your  father  would  go  to  her  himself,  if 
you  would  take  him  to  her — that  strikes  me  as  the  better 
strategy  of  the  matter." 

"Then  am  I  to  understand  that  you  will  not  help; 
that  you  will  not  do  this  for  us — for  me  ?" 

"I  am  sorry  to  have  to  say  no,  Miss  Holbrook,"  I  re 
plied  steadily. 

"Then  I  regret  that  I  shall  have  to  go  further ;  I  must 
appeal  to  you  as  a  personal  matter  purely.  It  is  not 
easy;  but  if  we  are  really  very  good  friends—" 


288  ROSALIND   AT  EED    GATE 

She  glanced  toward  Sister  Margaret,  then  rose  and 
walked  out  upon  the  terrace. 

"You  will  hate  me — "  she  began,  smiling  wanly,  the 
tears  bright  in  her  eyes;  and  she  knew  that  it  was  not 
easy  to  hate  her.  "I  have  taken  money  from  Mr.  Gil- 
lespie,  for  my  father,  since  I  came  here.  It  is  a  large 
sum,  and  when  my  father  left  here  he  went  away  to 
spend  it — to  waste  it.  It  is  all  gone,  and  worse  than 
gone.  I  must  pay  that  back — I  must  not  be  under  obli 
gations  to  Mr.  Gillespie.  It  was  wrong,  it  was  very 
wrong  of  me,  but  I  was  distracted,  half  crazed  by  my 
father's  threats  of  violence  against  Aunt  Pat — against 
us  all.  I  am  sure  that  you  can  see  how  I  came  to  do  it. 
And  now  you  are  my  friend;  will  you  help  me?"  and 
she  broke  off,  smiling,  tearful,  her  back  to  the  balustrade, 
her  hand  at  her  side  lightly  touching  it. 

She  had  confidence,  I  thought,  in  the  power  of  tears, 
as  she  slipped  her  handkerchief  into  her  sleeve  and 
waited  for  me  to  answer. 

"Of  course  Mr.  Gillespie  only  loaned  you  the  money  to 
help  you  over  a  difficulty ;  in  some  way  that  must  be  cared 
for.  I  like  him ;  he  is  a  fellow  of  good  impulses.  I  repeat 
that  I  believe  this  matter  can  be  arranged  readily  enough, 
by  yourself  and  your  father.  My  intrusion  would  only 


HELEN"  TAKES  ME  TO  TASK    289 

make  a  worse  muddle  of  your  affairs.  Send  for  your 
father  and  let  him  go  to  your  aunt  in  the  right  spirit; 
and  I  believe  that  an  hour's  talk  will  settle  everything." 

"You  seem  to  have  misunderstood  my  purpose  in 
coming  here,  Mr.  Donovan,"  she  answered  coldly.  "I 
asked  your  help,  not  your  advice.  I  have  even  thrown 
myself  on  your  mercy,  and  you  tell  me  to  do  what  you 
know  is  impossible." 

"Nothing  is  so  impossible  as  the  present  attitude  of 
your  father.  Until  that  is  changed  your  aunt  would  be 
doing  your  father  a  great  injury  by  giving  him  this 
money/' 

"And  as  for  me — "  and  her  eyes  blazed — "as  for  me," 
she  said,  choking  with  anger,  "after  I  have  opened  this 
page  of  my  life  to  you  and  you  have  given  me  your 
fatherly  advice — as  for  me,  I  will  show  you,  and  Aunt 
Pat  and  all  of  them,  that  what  can  not  be  done  one  way 
may  be  done  in  another.  If  I  say  the  word  and  let  the 
law  take  its  course  with  my  uncle — that  man  who 
brought  all  these  troubles  upon  us — you  may  have  the 
joy  of  knowing  that  it  was  your  fault — your  fault,  Mr. 
Donovan !" 

"I  beg  of  you,  do  nothing !  If  you  will  not  bring  your 
father  to  Miss  Pat,  please  let  me  arrange  the  meeting." 


290  KOSALIND   AT  EED   GATE 

"He  will  not  listen  to  you.  He  looks  upon  you  as  a 
meddler ;  and  so  do  I,  Mr.  Donovan !" 

"But  your  uncle— you  must  not,  you  would  not!"  I 
cried,  terror-struck  to  see  how  fate  drew  her  toward  the 
pitfall  from  which  I  hoped  to  save  her. 

"Don't  say  'must  not'  to  me,  if  you  please !"  she  flung 
back;  but  when  she  reached  the  door  she  turned  and 
said  calmly,  though  her  eyes  still  blazed : 

"I  suppose  it  is  not  necessary  for  me  to  ask  that  you 
consider  what  I  have  said  to  you  confidential." 

"It  is  quite  unnecessary/'  I  said,  not  knowing  whether 
I  loved  or  pitied  her  most ;  and  my  wits  were  busy  trying 
to  devise  means  of  saving  her  the  heartache  her  igno 
rance  held  in  store  for  her. 

She  called  to  Sister  Margaret  in  her  brightest  tone, 
and  when  I  had  walked  with  them  to  St.  Agatha's  gate 
she  bade  me  good-by  with  quite  as  demure  and  Christian 
an  air  as  the  Sister  herself. 


CHAPTER    XX 

THE  TOUCH   OF  DISHONOR 

Give  me  a  staff  of  honour  for  mine  age. 

— Titus  Andronicus. 

I  was  meditating  my  course  over  a  cheerless  luncheon 
when  Gillespie  was  announced.  He  lounged  into  the  din 
ing-room,  drew  his  chair  to  the  table  and  covered  a  bis 
cuit  with  camembert  with  his  usual  inscrutable  air. 

"I  think  it  is  better/'  he  said  deliberatingly,  "to  be 
an  ass  than  a  fool.  Have  you  any  views  on  the  subject?" 

"None,  my  dear  Buttons.  I  have  been  called  both  by 
shrewd  men." 

"So  have  I,  if  the  worst  were  known,  and  they  offered 
proof !  Ah,  more  and  more  I  see  that  we  were  born  for 
each  other,  Donovan.  I  was  once  so  impressed  with  the 
notion  that  to  be  a  fool  was  to  be  distinguished  that  I 
conceived  the  idea  of  forming  a  Noble  Order  of  Serene 
and  Incurable  Fools.  I  elected  myself  The  Grand  and 
Most  Worthy  Master,  feeling  safe  from  competition. 
News  of  the  matter  having  gone  forth,  many  persons  of 


ROSALIND   AT   RED   GATE 

the  highest  standing  wrote  to  me,  recommending  their 
friends  for  membership.  My  correspondence  soon  en 
gaged  three  type-writers,  and  I  was  obliged  lo  get  the 
post-office  department  to  help  me  break  the  chain.  A 
few  humble  souls  applied  on  their  own  hook  for  consid 
eration.  These  I  elected  and  placed  in  the  first  class. 
You  would  be  surprised  to  know  how  many  people  who 
are  chronic  joiners  wrote  in  absent-mindedly  for  applica 
tion  blanks,  fearing  to  be  left  out  of  a  good  thing. 
United  States  senators  were  rather  common  on  the  list, 
and  there  were  three  governors ;  a  bishop  wrote  to  pro 
pose  a  brother  bishop,  of  whose  merits  he  spoke  in  the 
warmest  terms.  Many  newspapers  declared  that  the  so 
ciety  filled  a  long-felt  want.  I  received  invitations  to 
speak  on  the  uses  and  benefits  of  the  order  from  many 
learned  bodies.  The  thing  began  to  bore  me,  and  when 
my  official  stationery  was  exhausted  I  issued  a  farewell 
address  to  my  troops  and  dissolved  the  society.  But  It's 
a  great  gratification  to  me,  my  dear  Donovan,  that  we 
quit  with  a  waiting-list.'* 

"There  are  times,  Buttons,  when  you  cease  to  divert 
me.  Fm  likely  to  be  very  busy  for  a  few  days.  Just  what 
can  I  do  for  you  this  afternoon  ?" 

'TJook  here,  old  man,  you're  not  angry  ?" 


THE   TOUCH    OF   DISHONOR  293 

"No ;  Fm  rarely  angry ;  but  I'm  often  bored." 

"Then  your  brutal  insinuation  shall  not  go  unre 
warded.  Let  me  proceed.  But  first,  how  are  your  ribs  ?" 

"Sore  and  a  trifle  stiff,  but  I'm  comfortable,  thanks." 

"As  I  understand  matters,  Irishman,  there  is  no  real 
difference  between  you  and  me  except  in  the  matter  of  a 
certain  lady.  Otherwise  we  might  combine  our  forces  in 
the  interest  of  these  unhappy  Holbrooks." 

"You  are  quite  right.  You  came  here  to  say  some 
thing;  go  on  and  be  done  with  it." 

He  deftly  covered  another  biscuit  with  the  cheese,  of 
whose  antiquity  he  complained  sadly. 

"I  say,  Donovan,  between  old  soldier  friends,  what 
were  you  doing  up  there  on  the  creek  last  night  ?" 

"Studying  the  landscape  effects  by  starlight.  It's  a 
habit  of  mine.  Your  own  presence  there  might  need  ac 
counting  for,  if  you  don't  mind." 

"I  will  be  square  about  it.  I  met  Helen  quite  acci 
dentally  as  I  left  this  house,  and  she  wanted  to  see  her 
father.  I  took  her  over  there,  and  we  found  Henry.  He 
was  up  to  some  mischief — you  may  know  what  it  was. 
Something  had  gone  wrong  with  him,  and  he  was  in 
all  kinds  of  a  bad  humor.  Unfortunately,  you  got  the 
benefit  of  some  of  it." 


294:  ROSALIND   AT   RED    GATE 

"I  will  supply  you  a  link  in  the  night's  affairs.  Henry 
had  been  to  see  his  brother  Arthur/' 

Gillespie's  face  fell,  and  I  saw  that  he  was  greatly 
surprised. 

"Humph !  Helen  didn't  tell  me  that," 

"The  reason  Henry  came  here  was  to  look  for  his 
brother.  That's  how  he  reached  this  place  ahead  of  Miss 
Pat  and  Helen.  And  I  have  learned  something — it 
makes  no  difference  how,  but  it  was  not  from  the  ladies 
at  St.  Agatha's — I  learned  last  night  that  the  key  of  this 
whole  situation  is  in  your  own  hands,  Gillespie.  Your 
father  was  swindled  by  the  Holbrooks;  which  Hoi- 
brook?" 

He  was  at  once  sane  and  serious,  and  replied  soberly : 

"I  never  doubted  that  it  was  Arthur.  If  he  wasn't 
guilty,  why  did  he  run  away  ?  It  was  a  queer  business, 
and  father  never  mentioned  it.  Henry  gave  out  the  im 
pression  that  my  father  had  taken  advantage  of  Hoi- 
brook  Brothers  and  forced  their  failure;  but  father  shut 
up  and  never  told  me  anything." 

"But  you  have  the  notes — " 

"Yes,  but  I'm  not  to  open  them,  yet.  I  can't  tell  you 
about  that  now."  He  grew  red  and  played  with  his 
cravat. 


THE    TOUCH    OF   DISHOFOE  295 

irV\7here  are  they  ?"  I  asked. 

"I've  just  had  them  sent  to  me ;  they're  in  the  bank  at 
Annandale.  There's  another  thing  you  may  not  know. 
Old  man  Holbrook,  who  lived  to  be  older  than  the  hills, 
left  a  provision  in  his  will  that  adds  to  the  complica 
tions.  Miss  Pat  may  have  mentioned  that  stuff  in  her 
father's  will  about  the  honor  of  the  brothers — ?" 

"She  just  mentioned  it.  Please  tell  me  what  you 
know  of  it." 

He  took  out  his  pocket-book  and  read  me  this  para 
graph  from  a  newspaper  cutting : 

"And  the  said  one  million  dollars  hereinbefore  specific 
ally  provided  for  shall,  after  the  lapse  of  ten  years,  be 
divided  between  my  said  sons  Henry  and  Arthur  Holbrook, 
share  and  share  alike;  but  if  either  of  my  said  sons  shall 
have  been  touched  by  dishonor  through  his  own  act,  as 
honor  is  accounted,  reckoned  and  valued  among  men,  my 
said  daughter  Patricia  to  be  the  sole  judge  thereof,  then  he 
shall  forfeit  his  share  of  said  amount  thus  withheld,  and 
the  whole  of  said  sum  of  one  million  dollars  shall  be  ad 
judged  to  belong  to  the  other  son." 

Gillespie  lighted  a  cigarette  and  smoked  quietly  for 
several  minutes,  and  when  he  spoke  it  was  with  deep 
feeling. 

"I  love  that  girl,  Donovan.  I  believe  she  cam  for  me, 
or  would  if  she  could  get  out  of  all  these  entanglement. 


296  ROSALIND   AT   RED    GATE 

I'm  almost  ready  to  burn  that  packet  and  tell  Miss  Pat 
she's  got  to  settle  with  Henry  and  be  done  with  it.  Let 
him  spend  his  money  and  die  in  disgrace  and  go  to  the 
devil;  anything  is  better  than  all  this  secrecy  and  mys 
tery  that  enmeshes  Helen.  I'm  going  to  end  it ;  I'm  go 
ing  to  end  it !" 

We  had  gone  to  the  library,  and  he  threw  himself 
down  in  the  chair  from  which  she  had  spoken  of  him  so 
short  a  time  before  that  I  seemed  still  to  feel  her  pres 
ence  in  the  room. 

He  was  of  that  youthful,,  blond  type  which  still  sun 
burns  after  much  tanning.  His  short  hair  was  brushed 
smooth  on  his  well-formed  head.  The  checks  and 
stripes  and  hideous  color  combinations  in  his  raiment, 
which  Miss  Pat  had  mentioned  at  our  first  inter 
view,  were,  I  imagined,  peculiar  to  his  strange  humor — 
a  denotement  of  his  willingness  to  sacrifice  himself  to 
mystify  or  annoy  others.  He  seemed  younger  to-day 
than  I  had  thought  him  before ;  he  was  a  kind,  generous, 
amusing  boy,  whose  physical  strength  seemed  an  anom 
aly  in  one  so  gentle.  He  did  not  understand  Helen; 
and  as  I  reflected  that  I  was  not  sure  I  understood  her 
myself,  the  heads  of  the  dragon  multiplied,  and  my  task 
at  Annandale  grew  on  my  hands.  But  I  wanted  to  help 


THE    TOUCH    OF    DISHONOR  297 

this  boy  if  it  was  in  me  to  do  it,  and  I  clapped  him  on 
the  shoulder. 

"Cheer  up,  lad !  If  we  can't  untie  the  knot  we'll  lose 
no  time  cutting  the  string.  There  may  be  some  fun  in 
this  business  before  we  get  through  with  it." 

I  began  telling  him  of  some  of  my  own  experiences, 
and  won  him  to  a  cheerier  mood.  When  we  came  round 
to  the  Holbrooks  again  his  depression  had  passed,  and 
we  were  on  the  best  of  terms. 

"But  there's  one  thing  we  can't  get  away  from,  Don 
ovan.  I've  got  to  protect  Helen ;  don't  you  see  ?  I've  got 
to  take  care  of  her,  whatever  comes." 

"But  you  can't  take  care  of  her  father.   He's  hope- 


"I  could  give  him  this  money  myself,  couldn't  I?  I 
can  do  it,  and  I've  about  concluded  that  I  ought  to 
do  it." 

"But  that  would  be  a  waste.  It  would  be  like  giving 
whisky  to  a  drunkard.  Money  has  been  at  the  bottom  of 
all  this  trouble." 

Gillespie  threw  up  his  hands  witK  a  gesture  of  help 
lessness. 

"I  shall  undoubtedly  lose  such  wits  as  I  have  if  we 
don't  get  somewhere  in  this  business  pretty  soon.  But, 


298  KOSALIND   AT   EED    GATE 

Donovan,  there's  something  I  want  to  ask  you.  I  don't 
like  to  speak  of  it,  but  when  we  were  coming  away  from 
that  infernal  island,  after  our  scrap  with  the  dago,  there 
were  two  people  walking  on  the  bluff — a  man  and  a 
woman,  and  the  woman  was  nearest  us.  She  seemed  to 
be  purposely  putting  herself  in  the  man's  way  so  we 
couldn't  see  him.  It  didn't  seem  possible  that  Helen 
could  be  there— but?" 

He  clearly  wished  to  be  assured,  and  I  answered  at 
once: 

"I  saw  them;  it  couldn't  have  been  Helen.  It  was 
merely  a  similarity  of  figure.  I  couldn't  distinguish  her 
face  at  all.  Very  likely  they  were  Port  Annandale  cot 
tagers." 

"I  thought  so  myself,"  he  replied,  evidently  relieved. 
It  did  not  seem  necessary  to  tell  him  of  Kosalind  at  Ked 
Gate;  that  was  my  secret,  and  I  was  not  yet  ready  to 
share  it. 

"I've  got  to  talk  to  somebody,  and  I  want  to  tell  you 
something,  Donovan.  I  can't  deny  that  there  are  times 
when  Helen  doesn't  seem — well,  all  that  I  have  thought 
her  at  other  times.  Sometimes  she  seems  selfish  and 
hard,  and  all  that.  And  I  know  she  hasn't  treated  Miss 
Pat  right;  it  isn't  square  for  her  to  take  Miss  Pat's 


THE   TOUCH    OF   DISHONOR  299 

bounty  and  then  work  against  her.   But  I  make  allow 
ances,  Donovan." 

"Of  course/'  I  acquiesced,  wishing  to  cheer  him.  "So 
do  I.  She  has  been  hard  put  in  this  business.  And  a 
man's  love  can't  always  be  at  par — or  a  woman's  either ! 
The  only  thing  a  man  ought  to  exact  of  the  woman  he 
marries  is  that  she  put  up  a  cheerful  breakfast-table. 
Nothing  else  counts  very  much.  Start  the  day  right, 
hand  him  his  gloves  and  a  kind  word  at  the  front  door 
as  he  sallies  forth  to  the  day's  battle,  and  constancy  and 
devotion  will  be  her  reward.  I  have  spoken  words  of 
wisdom.  Harken,  0  Chief  Button-maker  of  the  World !" 

The  chiming  of  the  bells  beyond  the  Glenarm  wall 
caused  him  to  lift  his  head  defiantly.  I  knew  what  was 
in  his  mind.  He  was  in  love — or  thought  he  was,  which 
has  been  said  to  be  the  same  thing — and  he  wanted  to 
see  the  girl  he  loved;  and  I  resolved  to  aid  him  in  the 
matter.  I  have  done  some  mischief  in  my  life,  but  real 
evil  I  have,  I  hope,  never  done.  It  occurred  to  me  now 
that  I  might  do  a  little  good.  And  for  justification  I 
reasoned  that  I  was  already  so  deep  in  the  affairs  of 
other  people  that  a  little  further  plunge  could  do  no 
particular  harm. 

think  her  rarely  beautiful,  don't  you,  Buttons  ?" 


300  ROSALINE   AT   BED   GATE 

"She  is  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  the  world  I"  he 
exclaimed. 

"The  type  is  not  without  charm.  Every  man  has  his 
ideal  in  the  way  of  a  type.  I  will  admit  that  her  type  is 
rare,"  I  remarked  with  condescension. 

"Bare !"  he  shouted.  "Bare !  You  speak  of  her,  Irish 
man,  as  though  she  were  a  mummy  or  a  gargoyle  or — 
or— " 

"No ;  I  should  hardly  say  that.  But  there  are  always 
others/' 

"There  are  no  others — not  another  one  to  compare 
with  her !  You  are  positively  brutal  when  you  speak  of 
that  girl.  You  should  at  least  be  just  to  her;  a  blind 
man  could  feel  her  beauty  even  if  he  couldn't  see !" 

"I  repeat  that  it's  the  type!  Propinquity,  another 
pair  of  dark  eyes,  the  drooping  lash,  those  slim  fingers 
resting  meditatively  against  a  similar  oval  olive  cheek, 
and  the  mischief's  done." 

"I  don't  understand  you,"  he  declared  blankly,  and 
then  the  color  flooded  his  face.  "I  believe  you  are  in 
love  with  her  yourself!"  And  then,  ironically:  "Or 
maybe  it's  just  the  type  you  fancy.  Any  other  girl,  with 
the  same  dark  eyes,  the  drooping  lash — " 

"You'd  never  be  happy  with  Helen  Holbrook  if  she 


"  I  can't  imagine  a  girl's  marrying  me  for  anything  else."     Page  301 


THE   TOUCH    OF   DISHONOR  301 

married  you,  Gillespie.  What  you  need  is  a  clinging 
vine.  Helen  isn't  that." 

"That  is  your  opinion.,  is  it,  Mr.  Donovan?  You  want 
me  to  seek  my  faith  in  the  arboretum,  do  you?  You 
mustn't  think  yourself  the  permanent  manager  of  all  the 
Holbrooks  and  of  me,  too !  I  have  never  understood  just 
how  you  broke  into  this.  And  I  can't  see  that  you  have 
done  much  to  help  anybody,  if  you  must  know  my 
opinion/5 

"I  have  every  intention  of  helping  you,  Buttons.  I 
like  you.  You  have  to  me  all  the  marks  of  a  good  fellow. 
My  heart  goes  out  to  you  in  this  matter.  I  want  to  see 
you  happily  married  to  a  woman  who  will  appreciate 
you.  If  you're  not  careful  some  girl  will  marry  you  for 
your  money." 

Good  humor  mastered  him  again,  and  he  grinned  his 
delightful  boyish  grin. 

"I  can't  for  the  life  of  me  imagine  a  girl's  marrying 
me  for  anything  else,"  he  said.  "Can  you  ?" 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do  for  you,  my  lad,"  I  said. 
"I'll  arrange  for  you  to  see  Helen  to-night !  You  shall 
meet  and  talk  and  dance  with  her  at  Port  Annandale 
casino,  in  the  most  conventional  way  in  the  world,  with 
me  for  chaperon.  By  reason  of  being  Mr.  Glenarm's 


302  KOSALIND   AT    BED    GATE 

guest  here,  I'm  ex  officio  a  member  of  the  club.  I'll 
manage  everything.  Miss  Pat  shall  know  nothing — all 
on  one  condition  only." 

"Well,  name  your  price." 

"That  you  shall  not  mention  family  affairs  to  her  at 
all." 

"God  knows  I  shall  be  delighted  to  escape  them !"  His 
eyes  brightened  and  he  clapped  his  hands  together.  "I 
owe  her  a  pair  of  gloves  on  an  old  wager.  I  have  them  in 
the  village  and  will  bring  them  over  to-night."  he  said ; 
but  deception  was  not  an  easy  game  for  him.  I  grinned 
and  he  colored. 

"It's  not  money,  Donovan,"  he  said,  as  hurt  as  a  mis 
judged  child.  "I  won't  lie  to  you.  I  was  to  meet  her  afe 
St.  Agatha's  pier  to-night  to  give  her  the  gloves." 

"You  shall  have  your  opportunity,  but  those  meet 
ings  on  piers  won't  do.  I  will  hand  her  over  to  you  at 
the  casino  at  nine  o'clock.  I  suppose  I  may  have  a  dance 
or  two?"  • 

"I  suppose  so,"  he  said,  so  grudgingly  that  I  laughed 
aloud. 

"Eemember  the  compact ;  try  to  have  a  good  time  and 
don't  talk  of  trouble,"  I  enjoined,  as  we  parted. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

A  BLUB  CLOAK  AND  A  SCARLET 

When  first  we  met  we  did  not  guess 
That  Love  would  prove  so  hard  a  master; 
Of  more  than  common  friendliness 
When  first  we  met  we  did  not  guess — 
Who  could  foretell  this  sore  distress — 
This  irretrievable  disaster 
When  first  we  met?  We  did  not  guess 
That  Love  would  prove  so  hard  a  master. 

— Robert  Bridges. 

Miss  Pat  asked  me  to  dine  at  St.  Agatha's  that  night. 
The  message  came  unexpectedly — a  line  on  one  of  those 
quaint  visiting-cards  of  hers,  brought  by  the  gardener ; 
and  when  I  had  penned  my  acceptance  I  at  once  sent  the 
following  message  by  Ijima  to  the  boat-maker's  house  at 
Red  Gate: 

To  Rosalind  at  Red  Gate: 

It  is  important  for  you  to  appear  with  me  at  the  Port 
Annandale  casino  to-night,  and  to  meet  Reginald  Gillespie 
there.  He  is  pledged  to  refer  in  no  way  to  family  affairs. 
If  he  should  attempt  to,  you  need  only  remind  him  of  his 
promise.  He  will  imagine  that  you  are  some  one  else,  so 
please  be  careful  not  to  tax  his  imagination  too  far.  There 

303 


304  KOSALIND   AT   EED    GATE 

is  much  at  stake  which  I  will  explain  later.  You  are  to  re 
fuse  nothing  that  he  may  offer  you.  I  shall  come  into  the 
creek  with  the  launch  and  call  for  you  at  Red  Gate. 

THE  IRISHMAN  AT  GLENAEM. 

The  casino  dances  are  very  informal.  A  plain  white  gown 
and  a  few  ribbons.  But  don't  omit  your  emerald. 

I  was  not  sure  where  this  project  would  lead  me,  but 
I  committed  myself  to  it  with  a  fair  conscience.  I 
reached  St.  Agatha's  just  as  dinner  was  announced  and 
we  went  out  at  once  to  the  small  dining-room  used  by 
the  Sister  in  charge  during  vacation,  where  I  faced 
Miss  Pat,  with  Helen  on  one  hand  and  Sister  Margaret 
on  the  other.  They  were  all  in  good  humor,  even  Sister 
Margaret  proving  less  austere  than  usual,  and  it  is  not 
too  much  to  say  that  we  were  a  merry  party.  Helen  led 
me  with  a  particular  intention  to  talk  of  Irish  affairs, 
and  avowed  her  own  unbelief  in  the  capacity  of  the  Irish 
for  self-government. 

"Now,  Helen!"  admonished  Miss  Pat,  as  our  debate 
waxed  warm. 

"Oh,  do  not  spare  me !  I  could  not  be  shot  to  pieces 
in  a  better  cause  \" 

"The  trouble  with  you  people,"  declared  Helen  with 
finality,  "is  that  you  have  no  staying  qualities.  The 
smashing  of  a  few  heads  occasionally  satisfies  your 


BLUE    AND    SCARLET  305 

islanders,  then  down  go  the  necks  beneath  the  yoke.  You 
are  incapable  of  prolonged  war.  Now  even  the  Cubans 
did  better ;  you  must  admit  that,  Mr.  Donovan !" 

She  met  my  eyes  with  a  challenge.  ^There  was  no  ques 
tion  as  to  the  animus  of  the  discussion :  she  wished  me 
to  understand  that  there  was  war  between  us,,  and  that 
with  no  great  faith  in  my  wit  or  powers  of  endurance 
she  was  setting  herself  confidently  to  the  business  of  de- 
feating  my  purposes.  And  I  must  confess  that  I  liked 
it  in  her ! 

"If  we  had  you  for  an  advocate  our  flag  would  un 
doubtedly  rule  the  seas,  Miss  Holbrook !" 

"I  dip  my  colors,"  she  replied,  "only  to  the  long- 
enduring,  not  to  the  valiant  alone !" 

" A  lady  of  high  renown,"  I  mused  aloud,  while  Miss 
Pat  poured  the  coffee,  "a  lady  of  your  own  name,  was 
once  more  or  less  responsible  for  a  little  affair  that  lasted 
ten  years  about  the  walls  of  a  six-gated  city." 

"I  wasn't  named  for  her!  No  sugar  to-night,  please, 
Aunt  Pat!" 

I  stood  with  her  presently  by  an  open  window  of  the 
parlor,  looking  out  upon  the  night.  Sister  Margaret  had 
vanished  about  her  household  duties ;  Miss  Pat  had  taken 
up  a  book  witH  the  rather  obvious  intention  of  leaving 


306  ROSALIND   AT    EED    GATE 

us  to  ourselves.  I  expected  to  start  at  eight  for  my 
rendezvous  at  Eed  Gate,  and  my  ear  was  alert  to  the 
chiming  of  the  chapel  clock.  The  gardener  had  begun 
his  evening  rounds,  and  paused  in  the  walk  beneath  us. 

"Don't  you  think/'  asked  Helen,  "that  the  guard  is 
rather  ridiculous  ?" 

"Yes,  but  it  pleases  my  medieval  instincts  to  imagine 
that  you  need  defenders.  In  the  absence  of  a  moat  the 
gardener  combines  in  himself  all  the  apparatus  of  de 
fense.  Ijima  is  his  Asiatic  ally." 

"And  you,  I  suppose,  are  the  grand  strategist  and  field 
marshal." 

"At  least  that!" 

"After  this  morning  I  never  expected  to  ask  a  favor 
of  you;  but  if,  in  my  humblest  tone — " 

"Certainly.  Anything  within  reason." 

"I  want  you  to  take  me  to  the  casino  to-night  to  the 
dance.  I'm  tired  of  being  cooped  up  here.  I  want  to 
hear  music  and  see  new  faces." 

"Do  pardon  me  for  not  having  thought  of  it  before ! 
They  dance  over  there  every  Wednesday  and  Saturday 
night.  I'm  sorry  that  to-night  I  have  an  engagement,  but 
won't  you  allow  me  on  Saturday  ?" 

was  renting  her  arms  on.  the  Tflffii  sill,  gazing 


BLUE    AND    SCARLET  307 

out  upon  the  lake.  I  stood  near,  watching  her,  and  as 
she  sighed  deeply  my  heart  ached  for  her ;  but  in  a  mo 
ment  she  turned  her  head  swiftly  with  mischief  laughing 
in  her  eyes. 

"You  have  really  refused !  You  have  positively  de 
clined  !  You  plead  another  engagement !  This  is  a  place 
where  one's  engagements  are  burdensome." 

"This  one  happens  to  be  important." 

She  turned  round  with  her  back  to  the  window. 

"We  are  eternal  foes ;  we  are  fighting  it  out  to  a  fin 
ish;  and  it  is  better  that  way.  But,  Mr.  Donovan,  I 
haven't  played  all  my  cards  yet." 

"I  look  upon  you  as  a  resourceful  person  and  I  shall 
be  prepared  for  the  worst.  Shall  we  say  Saturday  night 
for  the  dance?" 

"No !"  she  exclaimed,  tossing  her  head.  "And  let  me 
have  the  satisfaction  of  telling  you  that  I  could  not  have 
gone  with  you  to-night  anyhow.  Good-by." 

I  found  Ijima  ready  with  the  launch  at  Glenarm  pier, 
and,  after  a  swift  flight  to  the  Tippecanoe,  knocked  at 
the  door  of  Red  Gate.  Arthur  Holbrook  admitted  me, 
and  led  the  way  to  the  room  where,  as  his  captive,  I  had 
first  talked  with  him. 

"We  have  met  before,"  he  said,  smiling.   "I  thought 


308,  ROSALIND   AT   BED    GATE 

-si 

you  were  an  enemy  at  that  time.  Now  I  believe  I  may 
count  you  a  f  riend." 

"Yes;  I  should  like  to  prove  myself  your  friend,  Mr. 
Holbrook." 

"Thank  you/'  he  said  simply;  and  we  shook  hands. 
"You  have  taken  an  interest  in  my  affairs,  so  my  daugh 
ter  tells  me.  She  is  very  dear  to  me — she  is  all  I  have 
left ;  you  can  understand  that  I  wish  to  avoid  involving 
her  in  these  family  difficulties." 

"I  would  cut  off  my  right  hand  before  I  would  risk 
injuring  you  or  her,  Mr.  Holbrook/'  I  replied  earnestly. 
"You  have  a  right  to  know  why  I  wish  her  to  visit  the 
casino  with  me  to-night.  I  know  what  she  does  not 
know,  what  only  two  other  people  know;  I  know  why 
you  are  here." 

"I  am  very  sorry;  I  regret  it  very  much/'  he  said 
without  surprise  but  with  deep  feeling.  The  jauntiness 
with  which  he  carried  off  our  first  interview  was  gone; 
he  seemed  older,  and  there  was  no  mistaking  the  trouble 
and  anxiety  in  his  eyes.  He  would  have  said  more,  but 
I  interrupted  him. 

"As  far  as  I  am  concerned  no  one  else  shall  ever  know. 
The  persons  who  know  the  truth  about  you  are  your 
brother  and  yourself.  Strangely  enough,  Reginald  Gilles- 


BLUE   AND    SCARLET  '309 

s 
pie  does  not  know.  Your  sister  has  not  the  slightest  idea 

of  it.  Your  daughter,  I  assume,  has  no  notion  of  it — " 

"No !  no  I"  he  exclaimed  eagerly.  "She  has  not  known ; 
she  has  believed  what  I  have  told  her ;  and  now  she  must 
never  know  how  stupid,  how  mad,  I  have  been." 

"To-night,"  I  said,  "your  daughter  and  I  will  gam 
possession  of  the  forged  notes.    Gillespie  will  give  them 
to  her ;  and  I  should  like  to  hold  them  for  a  day  or  two." 
He  was  pacing  the  floor  and  at  this  wheeled  upon  me 
with  doubt  and  suspicion  clearly  written  on  his  face. 
"But  I  don't  see  how  you  can  manage  it !" 
"Mr.  Gillespie  is  infatuated  with  your  niece." 
"With  Helen,  who  is  with  my  sister  at  St.  Agatha's." 
"I  have  promised  Gillespie  that  he  shall  see  her  to 
night  at  the  casino  dance.    Your  sister  is  very  bitter 
against  him  and  he  is  mortally  afraid  of  her." 

"His  father  really  acted  very  decently,  when  you 
know  the  truth.  But  I  don't  see  how  this  is  to  be  man 
aged.  I  should  like  to  possess  myself  of  those  papers,  but 
not  at  too  great  a  cost.  More  for  Eosalind's  sake  than 
my  own  now,  I  should  haver  them." 

"You  may  not  know  that  your  daughter  and  her  cou 
sin  are  as  like  as  two  human  beings  can  be,  I  am  rather 
put  to  it  myself  to  tell  them  apart." 


310  ROSALIND   AT    RED    GATE 


y 


"Their  mothers  were  much  alike,  but  they  were  dis 
tinguishable.  If  you  are  proposing  a  substitution  of 
Rosalind  for  Helen,  I  should  say  to  have  a  care  of  it. 
You  may  deceive  a  casual  acquaintance,  but  hardly  a 
lover." 

"I  have  carried  through  worse  adventures.  Those  doc 
uments  must  not  get  into — into — unfriendly  hands!  I 
have  pledged  myself  that  Miss  Patricia  shall  be  kept 
free  from  further  trouble,  and  much  trouble  lies  in  those 
forged  notes  if  your  brother  gets  them.  But  I  hope  to 
do  a  little  more  than  protect  your  sister ;  I  want  to  get 
you  all  out  of  your  difficulties.  There  is  no  reason  for 
your  remaining  in  exile.  You  owe  it  to  your  daughter 
to  go  back  to  civilization.  And  your  sister  needs  you. 
You  saved  your  brother  once;  you  will  pardon  me  for 
saying  that  you  owe  him  no  further  mercy." 

He  thrust  his  hands  into  his  pockets  and  paced  the 
floor  a  moment,  before  he  said : 

"You  are  quite  right.  But  I  am  sure  you  will  be  very 
careful  of  my  little  girl ;  she  is  all  T  have — quite  all  I 
have." 

He  went  to  the  hall  and  called  her  and  bowed  with  a 
graceful,  old-fashioned  courtesy  that  reminded  me  of 
Miss  Pat  as  Rosalind  came  into  the  room. 


BLUE    AND    SCARLET  311 

"Will  I  do,  gentlemen  all?"  she  asked  gaily.  "Do  I 
look  the  fraud  I  feel?" 

She  threw  off  a  long  scarlet  cloak  that  fell  to  her  heels 
and  stood  before  us  in  white — it  was  as  though  she  had 
stepped  out  of  flame.  She  turned  slowly  round,  with 
head  bent,  submitting  herself  for  our  inspection. 

Her  gown  was  perfectly  simple,  high  at  the  throat  and 
with  sleeves  that  clasped  her  wrists.  To  my  masculine 
eyes  it  was  of  the  same  piece  and  pattern  as  the  gown 
in  which  I  had  left  Helen  at  St.  Agatha's  an  hour  be 
fore. 

"I  think  I  read  doubt  in  your  mind,"  she  laughed. 
"You  must  not  tell  me  now  that  you  have  backed  out; 
I  shall  try  it  myself,  if  you  are  weakening.  I  am  anx 
ious  for  the  curtain  to  rise." 

"There  is  only  one  thing:  I  suggest  that  you  omit 
that  locket.  I  dined  with  her  to-night,  so  my  memory  is 
fresh." 

She  unclasped  the  tiny  locket  that  hung  from  a  slight 
band  of  velvet  at  her  throat,  and  threw  it  aside ;  and  her 
father,  who  was  not,  I  saw,  wholly  reconciled  to  my  un 
dertaking,  held  the  cloak  for  her  and  led  the  way  with 
a  lantern  through  the  garden  and  down  to  the  waterside 
and  along  the  creek  to  the  launch  where  Ijima  was  ia 


312  ROSALIND   AT   BED    GATE 

readiness.  We  quickly  embarked,  and  the  launch  stole 
away  through  the  narrow  shores,  Holbrook  swinging  his 
lantern  back  and  forth  in  good-by.  I  had  lingered  longer 
at  the  boat-maker's  than  I  intended,  and  as  we  neared 
the  upper  lake  and  the  creek  broadened  Ijima  sent  the 
launch  forward  at  full  speed.  When  we  approached  Bat 
tle  Orchard  I  bade  him  stop,  and  hiding  our  lantern 
I  took  an  oar  and  guided  the  launch  quietly  by.  Then 
we  went  on  into  the  upper  lake  at  a  lively  clip.  Rosalind 
sat  quietly  in  the  bow,  the  hood  of  her  cloak  gathered 
about  her  head. 

I  was  taking  steering  directions  from  Ijima,  but  as  we 
neared  Port  Annandale  I  glanced  over  my  shoulder  to 
mark  the  casino  pier  lights  when  Rosalind  sang  out: 

"Hard  aport— hard!" 

I  obeyed,  and  we  passed  within  oar's  length  of  a  sail 
boat,  which,  showing  no  light,  but  with  mainsail  set, 
was  loafing  leisurely  before  the  light  west  wind.  As 
we  veered  away  I  saw  a  man's  figure  at  the  wheel ;  an 
other  figure  showed  darkly  against  the  cuddy. 

"Hang  out  your  lights  I"  I  shouted  angrily.  But  there 
was  no  reply. 

"The  Stiletto"  muttered  Ijinia,  starting  the  engine 
again. 


BLUE    AND    SCARLET  313 

"We  must  look  out  for  her  going  back/'  I  said,  as  we 
watched  the  sloop  merge  into  shadow. 

The  lights  of  the  casino  blazed  cheerily  as  we  drew 
up  to  the  pier,  and  Eosalind  stepped  out  in  good  spirits, 
catching  up  and  humming  the  waltz  that  rang  down 
upon  us  from  the  club-house. 

"Lady,"  I  said,  "let  us  see  what  lands  we  shall  dis 
cover." 

"I  ought  to  feel  terribly  wicked,  but  I  really  never  felt 
cheerfuller  in  my  life,"  she  averred.  "But  I  have  one 
embarrassment !" 

"Well  ?" — and  we  paused,  while  she  dropped  the  hood 
upon  her  shoulders. 

"What  shall  I  call  this  gentleman?" 

"What  does  she  call  him  ?  I'm  blest  if  I  know !  I  call 
him  Buttons  usually ;  Knight  of  the  Rueful  Countenance 
might  serve ;  but  very  likely  she  calls  him  Reggie." 

"I  will  try  them  all,"  she  said.  "I  think  we  used 
to  call  him  Reggie  on  Strawberry  Hill.  Very  likely  he 
will  detect  the  fraud  at  once  and  I  shan't  get  very  far 
with  him." 

"You  shall  get  as  far  as  you  please.  Leave  it  to  me. 
He  shall  see  you  first  on  the  veranda  overlooking  the 
water  where  there  are  shadows  in  plenty,  and  you  had 


314  ROSALIND   AT    BED    GATE 

better  keep  your  cloak  about  you  until  the  first  shock  of 
meeting  has  passed.  Then  if  he  wants  you  to  dance,  I 
will  hold  the  cloak,  like  a  faithful  chaperon,  and  you 
may  muffle  yourself  in  it  the  instant  you  come  out;  so 
even  if  he  has  his  suspicions  he  will  have  no  time  to  in 
dulge  them.  He  is  undoubtedly  patrolling  the  veranda., 
looking  for  us  even  now.  He's  a  faithful  knight !" 

As  we  passed  the  open  door  the  dance  ceased  and  a 
throng  of  young  people  came  gaily  out  to  take  the  air. 
We  joined  the  procession,  and  were  accepted  without  re 
mark.  Several  men  whom  I  had  seen  in  the  village  or 
met  in  the  highway  nodded  amiably.  Gillespie,  I  knew, 
was  waiting  somewhere;  and  I  gave  Rosalind  final  ad 
monitions. 

"Now  be  cheerful !  Be  cordial !  In  case  of  doubt  grow 
moody,  and  look  out  upon  the  water,  as  though  seeking 
an  answer  in  the  stars.  Though  I  seem  to  disappear  I 
shall  be  hanging  about  with  an  eye  for  danger-signals. 
Ah !  He  approaches !  He  comes  I" 

Gillespie  advanced  eagerly,  with  happiness  alight  in 
his  face. 

"Helen  I"  he  cried,  taking  her  hand ;  and  to  me :  "You 
are  not  so  great  a  liar  after  all,  Irishman." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Donovan  is  the  kindest  person  imaginable," 


BLUE    AND    SCARLET  315 

she  replied  and  turned  her  head  daringly  so  that  the 
light  from  a  window  fell  full  upon  her,  and  he  gazed 
at  her  with  frank,  boyish  admiration.  Then  she  drew 
her  wrap  about  her  shoulders  and  sat  down  on  a  bench 
with  her  face  in  shadow,  'and  as  I  walked  away  her 
laughter  followed  me  cheerily. 

I  was  promptly  seized  by  a  young  man,  who  feigned  to 
have  met  me  in  some  former  incarnation,  and  introduced 
to  a  girl  from  Detroit  whose  name  I  shall  never  know 
in  tills  world.  I  remember  that  she  danced  well,  and 
that  she  asked  me  whether  I  knew  people  in  Duluth, 
Fond  du  Lac,  Paducah  and  a  number  of  other  towns 
which  she  recited  like  a  geographical  index.  She  formed, 
I  think,  a  high  opinion  of  my  sense  of  humor,  for  I 
laughed  at  everything  she  said  in  my  general  joy  of  the 
situation.  After  our  third  dance  I  got  her  an  ice  and 
found  another  cavalier  for  her.  I  did  not  feel  at  all  as 
contrite  as  I  should  have  felt  as  I  strolled  round  the 
veranda  toward  Kosalind  and  Gillespie.  They  were  talk 
ing  in  low  tones  and  did  not  heed  me  until  I  spoke  to 
them. 

"Oh,  it's  you,  is  it?" — and  Gillespie  looked  up  at  me 
resentfully. 

"I  have  been  gone  two  years !    It  seems  to  me  I  am 


316  ROSALIND   AT   RED    GATE 

doing  pretty  well,  all  things  considered !  What  have  you 
been  talking  about?" 

" ' — 'Bout  Giunts,  an'  Griffuns,  an*  Elves, 

An'  the  Squidgicum-Squees  'at  swallers  therselves! '  " 

Rosalind  quoted.  "I  hope  you  have  been  enjoying  your 
self." 

"After  a  dull  fashion,  yes." 

"I  should  like  to  tell  her  that !  We  saw  you  through 
the  window.  She  struck  us  as  very  pretty,  didn't  she, 
Reggie?" 

"I  didn't  notice  her,"  Gillespie  replied  with  so  little 
interest  that  we  both  laughed. 

"It's  too  bad,"  remarked  Rosalind,  "that  Aunt  Pat 
couldn't  have  come  with  us.  It  would  have  been  a  relief 
for  her  to  get  away  from  that  dreary  schooi-house." 

"I  might  go  and  fetch  her,"  I  suggested. 

"If  you  do,"  said  Gillespie,  grinning,  "you  will  not 
find  us  here  when  you  get  back." 

Rosalind  sighed,  as  though  at  the  remembrance  of  her 
aunt's  forlorn  exile;  then  the  music  broke  out  in  a  two- 
step. 

"Come!  We  must  have  this  dance!"  she  exclaimed, 
and  Gillespie  rose  obediently.  I  followed,  exchanging 


BLUE    AND    SCARLET  317 

chaff  with  Rosalind  until  we  came  to  the  door,  where  she 
threw  off  her  cloak  for  the  first  time. 

"Lord  and  Protector,  will  you  do  me  the  honor?" 

It  all  happened  in  a  moment.  I  tossed  the  cloak  across 
my  arm  carelessly  and  she  turned  to  Gillespie  without 
looking  at  me.  He  hesitated — some  word  faltered  on  his 
lips.  I  think  it  must  have  been  the  quick  transition  of 
her  appearance  effected  by  the  change  from  the  rich 
color  of  the  cloak  to  the  white  of  her  dress  that  startled 
him.  She  realized  the  danger  of  the  moment,  and  put 
her  arm  on  his  arm. 

"We  mustn't  miss  a  note  of  it !  Good-by," — and  with 
a  nod  to  me  I  next  saw  her  far  away  amid  the  throng  of 
dancers. 

As  I  caught  up  the  cloak  under  my  arm  something 
crackled  under  my  fingers,  and  hurrying  to  a  dark  corner 
of  the  veranda  I  found  the  pocket  and  drew  forth  an  en 
velope.  My  conscience,  I  confess,  was  agreeably  quies 
cent.  You  may,  if  you  wish,  pronounce  my  conduct  at 
several  points  of  this  narrative  wholly  indefensible;  but 
I  was  engaged  in  a  sincere  effort  to  straighten  out  the 
Holbrook  tangle,  and  Helen  had  openly  challenged  me. 
If  I  could  carry  this  deception  through  successfully  I 
believed  that  within  a  few  hours  I  might  bring  Henry 


318  ROSALIND   AT   RED   GATE 

Holbrook  to  terms.  As  for  Gillespie  he  was  far  safer 
with  Rosalind  than  with  Helen.  I  thrust  the  envelope 
into  my  breast  pocket  and  settled  myself  by  the  veranda 
rail,  where  I  could  look  out  upon  the  lake,  and  at  the 
same  time  keep  an  eye  on  the  ball-room.  And,  to  be 
frank  about  it,  I  felt  rather  pleased  with  myself!  It 
would  do  Helen  no  great  harm  to  wait  for  Gillespie  on 
St.  Agatha's  pier:  the  discipline  of  disappointment 
would  be  good  for  her.  Vigorous  hand-clapping  de 
manded  a  repetition  of  the  popular  two-step  of  the 
hour,  and  I  saw  Rosalind  and  Gillespie  swing  into  the 
dance  as  the  music  struck  up  again. 

Somewhere  beneath  I  heard  the  rumble  and  bang  of  a 
bowling-alley  above  the  music.  Then  my  eyes,  roaming 
the  lake,  fell  upon  the  casino  pier  below.  Some  one  was 
coming  toward  me — a  girl  wrapped  in  a  long  cloak  who 
had  apparently  just  landed  from  a  boat.  She  moved 
swiftly  toward  the  casino.  I  saw  her  and  lost  her  again 
as  she  passed  in  and  out  of  the  light  of  the  pier  lamps. 
A  dozen  times  the  shadows  caught  her  away;  a  dozen 
times  the  pier  lights  flashed  upon  her ;  and  at  last  I  was 
aware  that  it  was  Helen  Holbrook,  walking  swiftly,  as 
though  upon  an  urgent  errand.  I  ran  down  the  steps 
and  met  her  luckily  on  a  deserted  stretch  of  board  walk. 


As  I  caught  the  cloak   .     .     .   something  crackled   under 
my  fingers.     Page  317 


BLUE    AND    SCARLET  319 

I  was  prepared  for  an  angry  outburst,  but  hardly  for 
the  sword-like  glitter  of  her  first  words. 

"This  is  infamous!  It  is  outrageous!  I  did  not  be 
lieve  that  even  you  would  be  guilty  of  this  I" 

The  two-step  was  swinging  on  to  its  conclusion,  and 
I  knew  that  the  casino  entrance  was  not  the  place  for  a 
scene  with  an  angry  girl. 

"I  am  anything  you  like;  but  please  come  to  a  place 
where  we  can  talk  quietly." 

"I  will  not !  I  will  not  be  tricked  by  you  again/' 

"You  will  come  along  with  me,  'at  once  and  quietly/' 
I  said;  and  to  my  surprise  she  walked  up  the  steps  be 
side  ma  As  we  passed  the  ball-room  door  the  music 
climbed  to  its  climax  and  ended. 

"Come,  let  us  go  to  the  farther  end  of  the  veranda/' 

When  we  had  reached  a  quiet  corner  she  broke  out 
upon  me  again. 

"If  you  have  done  what  I  think  you  have  done,  what 
I  might  have  known  you  would  do,  I  shall  punish  you 
terribly — you  and  her !" 

"You  may  punish  me  all  you  like,  but  you  shall  not 
punish  her !"  I  said  with  her  own  emphasis. 

"Reginald  promised  me  some  papers  to-night — my 
father  had  asked  me  to  get  them  for  him.  She  does  not 


320  EOSALIND   AT   BED    GATE 

know,  this  cousin  of  mine,  what  they  are,  what  her  far 
ther  is !  It  is  left  for  you  to  bring  the  shame  upon  her." 

"It  had  better  be  I  than  you,  in  your  present  frame 
of  mind!" — and  the  pity  welled  in  my  heart.  I  must 
save  her  from  the  heartache  that  lay  in  the  truth.  If  I 
failed  in  this  I  should  fail  indeed. 

"Do  you  want  her  to  know  that  her  father  is  a  forger 
— a  felon?  That  is  what  you  are  telling  her,  if  you  trick 
Eeginald  into  giving  her  those  papers  he  was  to  give 
me  for  my  father !" 

"She  hasn't  those  papers.  I  have  them.  They  are  in 
my  pocket,  quite  safe  from  all  of  you.  You  are  alto 
gether  too  vindictive,  you  Holbrooks !  I  have  no  inten 
tion  of  trusting  you  with  such  high  explosives." 

"Eeginald  shall  take  them  away  from  you.  He  is  not 
a  child  to  be  played  with — duped  in  this  fashion." 

"Eeginald  is  a  good  fellow.  He  will  always  love  me 
for  this—" 

"For  cheating  him  ?  Don't  you  suppose  he  will  resent 
it?  Don't  you  think  he  knows  me  from  every  other  girl 
in  the  world?" 

"No,  I  do  not.  In  fact  I  have  proved  that  he  doesn't 
You  see,  Miss  Holbrook,  he  gave  her  the  documents  in 
the  case  without  a  question." 


BLUE   AND   SCARLET  321 

•\ 
"And  she  dutifully  passed  them  on  to  you  I" 

"Nothing  of  the  kind,  my  dear  Miss  Holbrook!  I 
took  them  out  of  her  cloak  pocket." 

"That  is  quite  in  keeping !" 

"I'm  not  done  yet !  Pardon  me,  but  I  want  you  to  ex 
change  cloaks  with  me.  You  shall  have  Reginald  in  a 
moment,  and  we  will  make  sure  that  he  is  deceived  by 
letting  him  take  you  homa  You  are  as  like  as  two  peas 
— in  everything  except  temper,  humor  and  such  trifles; 
but  your  cloaks  are  quite  different.  Please !" 

"I  will  not!" 

"Please!" 

"You  axe  despicable,  despicable !" 

"I  am  really  the  best  friend  you  have  in  the  world. 
Again,  will  you  kindly  exchange  cloaks  with  me  ?  Yours 
is  blue,  isn't  it  ?  I  think  Reginald  knows  blue  from  red. 
Ah,  thank  you!  Now,  I  want  you  to  promise  to  say 
nothing  as  he  takes  you  home  about  papers,  your  father, 
your  uncle  or  your  aunt.  You  will  talk  to  him  of  times 
when  you  were  children  at  Stamford,  and  things  like 
that,  in  a  dreamy  reminiscential  key.  If  he  speaks  of 
things  that  you  don't  exactly  understand,  refers  to  what 
he  has  said  to  your  cousin  here  to-night,  you  need  only 
fend  him  off;  tell  him  the  incident  is  closed.  When  I 


32S  EOSALIND    AT    EED    GATE 

bring  him  to  you  in  ten  minutes  it  will  be  with  the  un 
derstanding  that  he  is  to  take  you  back  to  St.  Agatha's 
at  once.  He  has  his  launch  at  the  casino  pier;  you 
needn't  say  anything  to  him  when  you  land,  only  that 
you  must  get  home  quietly,  so  Miss  Pat  shan't  know  you 
have  been  out.  Your  exits  and  your  entrances  are  your 
own  affair.  Now  I  hope  you  see  the  wisdom  of  obeying 
me,  absolutely." 

"I  didn't  know  that  I  could  hate  you  so  much !"  she 
said  quietly.  "But  I  shall  not  forget  this.  I  shall  let 
you  see  before  I  am  a  day  older  that  you  axe  not  quite 
the  master  you  think  you  are:  suppose  I  tell  him  how 
you  have  played  with  him." 

"Then  before  you  are  three  hours  older  I  shall  pre 
cipitate  a  crisis  that  you  will  not  like,  Miss  Holbrook. 
I  advise  you,  as  your  best  friend,  to  do  what  I  ask." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders,  drew  the  scarlet  cloak 
more  closely  about  her,  and  I  left  her  gazing  off  into  the 
strip  of  wood  that  lay  close  upon  the  inland  side  of  the 
club-house.  I  was  by  no  means  sure  of  her,  but  there 
was  no  time  for  further  parley.  I  dropped  the  blue  cloak 
on  a  chair  in  a  corner  and  hurried  round  to  the  door  of 
the  ball-room,  meeting  Eosalind  and  Gillespie  coming 
out  flushed  with  their  dance. 


BLUE    ASD    SCARLET  323 

"The  hour  of  enchantment  is  almost  past.  I  must 
have  one  turn  before  the  princess  goes  back  to  her 
castle  I" — and  Kosalind  took  my  arm. 

"Meet  me  at  the  landing  in  two  minutes,  Gillespie ! 
As  a.  special  favor — as  a  particular  kindness — I  shall 
allow  you  to  take  the  princess  home!"  And  I  hurried 
Rosalind  away,  regained  the  blue  cloak,  and  flung  it 
about  her. 

"Well,"  she  said,  drawing  the  hood  over  her  head, 
"who  am  I,  anyhow !" 

"Don't  ask  me  such  questions !  I'm  afraid  to  say." 

"I  like  your  air  of  business.  You  are  undoubtedly  a 
man  of  action !" 

"I  thank  you  for  the  word.  I'm  brea/thing  hard.  I 
have  seen  ghosts  and  communed  with  dragons.  She's 
here !  your  alter  ego  is  on  this  very  veranda  more  angry 
than  it  is  well  for  a  woman  to  be," 

"Oh,"  she  faltered,  "she  found  out  and  followed?" 

"She  did;  she  undoubtedly  did!" 

As  we  paused  under  one  of  the  veranda  lamps  she 
looked  down  at  the  cloak  and  laughed. 

"So  this  is  hers !  I  thought  it  didn't  feel  quite  right. 
But  that  pair  of  gloves !" 

"It's  in  my  pocket.  I  have  stolen  it!"  I  led  the  way 


324:  ROSALIND   AT    RED    GATE 

to  the  lower  veranda  of  the  casino,  which  was  now  de 
serted.  "Stay  right  here  and  appear  deeply  interested  in 
the  heavens  above  and  the  waters  under  the  earth  until  I 
get  back." 

I  ran  up  the  stairs  again  and  found  Helen  where  I 
had  left  her. 

"And  now"  I  said,  giving  her  my  arm,  "you  will  not 
forget  the  rules  of  the  game !  Your  fortunes,  and  your 
father's  are  brighter  to-night  than  they  have  ever  been. 
You  hate  me  to  the  point  of  desperation,  but  remember 
I  am  your  friend  after  all." 

She  stopped  abruptly,  hesitating.  I  felt  indecision  in 
the  lessening  touch  upon  my  arm,  and  I  saw  it  in  her 
eyes  as  the  light  from  the  ball-room  door  flooded  us. 

"You  have  taken  everything  away  from  me !  You  are 
playing  Reginald  against  me." 

"Possibly — who  knows!  I  supposed  you  had  more 
faith  in  your  powers  than  that !" 

"I  have  no  faith  in  anything,"  she  said  dejectedly. 

"Oh,  yes,  you  have !  You  have  an  immense  amount  of 
faith  in  yourself.  And  you  know  you  care  nothing  at  all 
about  Reginald  Gillespie ;  he's  a  nice  boy,  but  that's  all." 

"You  are  contemptible  and  wicked !"  she  flared.  "Let 
us  go." 


BLUE    AND    SCAELET  325 

Gillespie's  launch  was  r.eady  when  we  reached  the  pier, 
and  after  he  had  handed  her  into  it  he  plucked  my 
sleeve,  and  held  me  for  an  instant. 

"Don't  you  see  how  wrong  you  are!  She  is  superb! 
She  is  not  only  the  most  beautiful  girl  in  the  world,  but 
the  dearest,  the  sweetest,  the  kindest  and  best.  You  have 
served  me  better  than  you  know,  old  man,  and  I'm 
grateful !" 

In  a  moment  they  were  well  under  way  and  I  ran  back 
to  the  club-house  and  found  Eosalind  where  I  had  left 
her. 

"We  must  go  at  once,"  she  said.  "Father  will  be  very 
anxious  to  know  how  it  all  came  out." 

"But  what  did  you  think  of  Buttons?" 

"He's  very  nice,"  she  said. 

"Is  that  all  ?  It  doesn't  seem  conclusive,  some  way !" 

"Oh,  he's  very  kind  and  gentle,  and  anxious  to  please. 
But  I  felt  like  a  criminal  all  the  time." 

"You  seemed  to  be  a  very  cheerful  criminal.  I  sup 
pose  it  was  only  the  excitement  that  kept  you  going." 

"Of  course  that  was  it !  I  was  wondering  what  to  call 
it.  I'm  afraid  the  Sisters  at  the  convent  would  have  a 
less  pleasant  word  for  it." 

"Well,  you  are  not  in  school  now ;  and  I  think  we  have 


326  ROSALIND   AT    RED    GATE 

done  a  good  night's  work  for  everybody  concerned.  But 
tell  me,  did  he  make  love  acceptably  ?" 

"I  suppose  that  was  what  he  was  doing,  sir/'  she  re 
plied  demurely,  averting  her  head. 

"Suppose  ?"I  laughed. 

"Yes ;  you  see,  it  was  my  first  experience.  And  he  is 
really  very  nice,  and  so  honest  and  kind  and  gentle  that 
I  felt  sorry  for  him." 

"Ah!  You  were  sorry  for  him!  Then  it's  all  over. 
I'm  clear  out  of  it.  When  a  woman  is  sorry  for  a  man — 
tchk !  But  tell  me,  how  did  his  advances  compare  with 
mine  on  those  occasions  when  we  met  over  there  by  St. 
Agatha's  ?  I  did  my  best  to  be  entertaining." 

"Oh,  he  is  much  more  earnest  than  you  ever  could  be. 
I  never  had  any  illusions  about  you,  Mr.  Donovan.  You 
just  amuse  yourself  with  the  nearest  girl,  and,  besides, 
for  a  long  time  you  thought  I  was  Helen.  Mr.  Gillespie 
is  terribly  in  earnest.  When  he  was  talking  to  me  back 
there  in  the  corner  I  didn't  remember  at  all  that  it  was 
he  who  drove  a  goat-team  in  Central  Park  to  rebuke  the 
policeman !" 

"No ;  I  suppose  with  the  stage  properly  set, — with  the 
music  and  the  stars  and  the  water, — one  might  forget 
Mr.  Gillespie's  mild  idiosyncrasies." 


BLUE    AND    SCARLET  327 

"But  you  haven't  told  me  about  Helen.  Of  course 
she  saw  through  the  trick  at  once." 

"She  did  •"  I  answered,  in  a  tone  that  caused  Eosalind 
to  laugh. 

"Well,  you  wouldn't  hurt  poor  little  me  if  she  scolded 
you !" 

We  were  on  the  pier,  and  I  whistled  to  Ijima  to  bring 
up  the  launch.  In  a  moment  we  were  skimming  over  the 
lake  toward  the  Tippecanoe. 

Arthur  Holbrook  was  waiting  for  us  in  the  creek. 

"It  is  all  right/'  I  said.  "I  shall  keep  the  papers  for 
the  present,  if  you  don't  mind,  but  your  troubles  are 
nearly  over."  And  I  left  Eosalind  laughingly  explaining 
to  her  father  how  it  came  about  that  she  had  gone  to  the 
casino  in  a  scarlet  cloak  but  had  returned  in  a  blue  one. 


CHAPTER  XXII 
MR.  GILLESPIE'S  DIVERSIONS 

Patience  or  Prudence, — what  you  will, 
Some  prefix  faintly  fragrant  still 
As  those  old  musky  scents  that  fill 

Our  grandmas'  pillows; 
And  for  her  youthful  portrait  take 
Some  long-waist  child  of  Hudson's  make, 
Stiffly  at  ease  beside  a  lake 

With  swans  and  willows. 

— Austin  Do'bson. 

In  my  own  room  I  drew  the  blinds  for  greater  secur 
ity,  lighted  the  desk-lamp  and  sat  down  before  the 
packet  Gillespie  had  given  Rosalind.  It  was  a  brown 
commercial  envelope,  thrice  sealed,  and  addressed,  "R. 
Gillespie:  Personal."  In  a  corner  was  written  "Hoi- 
brook  Papers."  I  turned  the  packet  over  and  over  in 
my  hands,  reflecting  upon  my  responsibility  and  duty  in 
regard  to  it.  Henry  Holbrook,  in  his  anxiety  to  secure 
the  notes,  had  taken  advantage  of  Gillespie's  infatuation 
for  Helen  to  make  her  his  agent  for  procuring  them, 
and  now  it  was  for  me  to  use  the  forged  notes  as  a 

328 


ME.    GILLESPIE'S    DIVERSIONS 

means  of  restoring  Arthur  Holbrook  to  his  sister's  con 
fidence.  The  way  seemed  clear  enough,  and  I  went  to 
bed  resolving  that  in  the  morning  I  should  go  to  Henry 
Holbrook,  tell  him  that  I  had  the  evidence  of  his  guilt 
in  my  possession  and  threaten  him  with  exposure  if  he 
did  not  cease  his  mad  efforts  to  blackmail  his  sister. 

I  rose  early  and  perfected  my  plans  for  the  day  as  I 
breakfasted.  A  storm  had  passed  round  us  in  the  night 
and  it  was  bright  and  cool,  with  a  sharp  wind  beating 
the  lake  into  tiny  whitecaps.  It  was  not  yet  eight  o'clock 
when  I  left  the  house  for  my  journey  in  search  of  Henry 
Holbrook.  The  envelope  containing  the  forged  notes  was 
safely  locked  in  the  vault  in  which  the  Glenarm  silver 
was  stored.  As  I  stepped  down  into  the  park  I  caught 
sight  of  Miss  Pat  walking  in  the  garden  beyond  the  wall, 
and  as  I  lifted  my  cap  she  came  toward  the  iron  gate. 
She  was  rarely  abroad  so  early  and  I  imagined  that  she 
had  been  waiting  for  me. 

The  chill  of  the  air  was  unseasonable,  and  in  her 
long  coat  her  slight  figure  seemed  smaller  than  ever. 
She  smiled  her  grave  smile,  but  there  was,  I  thought,  an 
unusual  twinkle  in  her  gentle  eyes.  She  wore  for  the 
first  time  a  lace  cap  that  gave  a  new  delicacy  to  her  face. 

"You  are  abroad  early,  my  lord,"  she  said,  with  the 


3301  ROSALIND   AT    RED    GATE 

delicious  quaint  mockery  with  which  she  sometimes  flat 
tered  me.  And  she  repeated  the  lines : 

"Hast  thou  seen  ghosts?   Hast  thou  at  midnight  heard 
In  the  wind's  talking  an  articulate  word? 
Or  art  thou  in  the  secret  of  the  sea, 
And  have  the  twilight  woods  confessed  to  thee?" 

"No  such  pleasant  things  have  happened  to  me,  Miss 
Holbrook." 

"This  is  my  birthday.  I  have  crowned  myself:  ob 
serve  the  cap !" 

"We  must  celebrate!  I  crave  the  privilege  of  dining 
you  to-night." 

"You  were  starting  for  somewhere  with  an  air  of  de 
termination.  Don't  let  me  interfere  with  your  plans." 

"I  was  going  to  the  boat-house,"  I  answered  truth 
fully. 

"Let  me  come  along.  I  am  turned  sixty-five,  and  I 
think  I  am  entitled  to  do  as  I  please;  don't  you?" 

"I  do,  indeed,  but  that  is  no  reason.  You  are  no  more 
sixty-five  than  I  am.  The  cap,  if  you  will  pardon  me, 
only  proclaims  your  immunity  from  the  blasts  of 
Time." 

"I  wish  I  had  known  you  at  twenty,"  she  said  brightly, 
as  we  went  on  together. 


MR.    GILLESPIE'S    DIVERSIONS         ML 

"My  subjection  could  not  have  been  more  complete." 

"Do  you  make  speeches  like  that  to  Helen  ?" 

"If  I  do  it  is  with  less  inspiration !" 

"You  must  stop  chaffing  me.  I  am  not  sixty-five  for 
nothing  and  I  don't  think  you  are  naturally  disrespect 
ful." 

When  we  reached  the  boat-house  she  took  a  chair  on 
the  little  veranda  and  smiled  as  though  something 
greatly  amused  her. 

"Mr.  Donovan — I  am  sixty-five,  as  I  have  said  before 
— may  I  call  you — " 

"Larry !  and  gladden  me  forever !" 

"Then,  Larry,  what  a  lot  of  frauds  we  all  are !" 

"I  suppose  we  are/'  I  admitted  doubtfully,  not  sure 
where  the  joke  lay. 

"You  have  been  trying  to  be  very  kind  to  me,  haven't 
you?" 

"I  have  accomplished  nothing." 

"You  have  tried  to  make  my  way  easy  here ;  and  you 
have  had  no  end  of  trouble.  I  am  not  as  dull  as  I  look, 
Larry." 

"If  I  have  deceived  you  it  has  been  with  an  honest 
purpose." 

"I  don't  question  that.    But  Helen  has  been  giving 


332  KOSALIND   AT    EED    GATE 

you  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  hasn't  she  ?  You  don't  quite 
make  her  out ;  isn't  that  true  ?" 

"I  understand  her  perfectly,"  I  averred  recklessly. 

"You  are  a  daring  young  man,  Larry,  to  make  that 
statement  of  any  woman.  Helen  has  not  always  dealt 
honestly  with  you — or  me !" 

"She  is  the  noblest  girl  in  the  world ;  she  is  splendid 
beyond  any  words  of  mine.  I  don't  understand  what 
you  mean,  Miss  Holbrook." 

"Larry,  you  dear  boy,  I  am  no  more  blind  or  deaf  than 
I  am  dumb!  Helen  has  been  seeing  her  father  and 
Keginald  Gillespie.  She  has  run  off  at  night,  thinking 
I  wouldn't  know  it.  She  is  an  extremely  clever  young 
woman,  but  when  she  has  made  a  feint  of  retiring  early, 
only  to  creep  out  and  drop  down  from  the  dining-room 
balcony  and  dodge  your  guards,  I  have  known  it.  She 
was  away  last  night  and  came  creeping  in  like  a  thief. 
It  has  amused  me,  Larry;  it  has  furnished  me  real  di 
version.  The  only  thing  that  puzzles  me  is  that  I  don't 
quite  see  where  you  stand." 

"I  haven't  always  been  sure  myself,  to  be  frank  about 
it!" 

"Why  not  tell  me  just  how  it  is :  whether  Helen  has 
been  amusing  herself  with  you,  or  you  with  Helen." 


MR.    GILLESPIE'S    DIVERSIONS         333 

"Oh !"  I  laughed.  "When  you  came  here  you  told  me 
she  was  the  finest  girl  in  the  world,  and  I  accepted  your 
word  for  it.  I  have  every  confidence  in  your  judgment, 
and  you  have  known  your  niece  for  a  long  time." 

"I  have  indeed." 

" And  I'm  sure  you  wouldn't  have  deceived  me !" 

"But  I  did !  I  wanted  to  interest  you  in  her.  Some 
thing  in  your  eye  told  me  that  you  might  do  great  things 
for  her." 

"Thank  you!" 

"But  instead  of  that  you  have  played  into  her  hands. 
Why  did  you  let  her  steal  out  at  night  to  meet  her  fa 
ther,  when  you  knew  that  could  only  do  her  and  me  a 
grave  injury?  And  you  have  aided  her  in  seeing  Gil- 
lespie,  when  I  particularly  warned  you  that  he  was  most 
repugnant  to  me." 

I  laughed  in  spite  of  myself  as  I  remembered  the 
night's  adventure;  and  Miss  Pat  stopped  short  in  the 
path  and  faced  me  with  the  least  glint  of  anger  in  her 
eyes. 

"I  really  didn't  think  you  capable  of  it!  She  will 
marry  him  for  his  money !" 

"Take  my  word  for  it,  she  will  do  nothing  of  the 
kind." 


334  ROSALIND    AT    EED    GATE 

"You  are  under  her  spell,  and  you  don't  know  her! 
I  think — sometimes — I  think  the  girl  has  no  soul !"  she 
said  at  last. 

The  dear  voice  faltered,  and  the  tears  flashed  into 
Miss  Pat's  eyes  as  she  confronted  me  in  the  woodland 
path. 

"Oh,  no!  It's  not  so  bad  as  that!"  I  pleaded. 

"I  tell  you  she  has  no  soul !  You  will  find  it  out  to 
your  cost.  She  is  made  for  nothing  but  mischief  in  this 
world!" 

"I  am  your  humble  servant,  Miss  Holbrook." 

"Then,"  she  began  doubtfully,  and  meeting  my  eyes 
with  careful  scrutiny,  "I  am  going  to  ask  you  to  do  one 
thing  more  for  me,  that  we  may  settle  all  this  disagree 
able  affair.  I  am  going  to  pay  Henry  his  money;  but 
before  I  do  so  I  must  find  my  brother  Arthur,  if  he  is 
still  alive.  That  may  have  some  difficulties." 

She  looked  at  me  as  though  for  approval;  then  went 
on, 

"I  have  been  thinking  of  all  these  matters  carefully 
since  I  came  here.  Henry  has  forfeited  his  right  to 
further  inheritance  by  his  contemptible,  cowardly  treat 
ment  of  me ;  but  I  ana  willing  to  forgive  all  that  he  has 
done.  He  was  greatly  provoked;  it  would  not  be  fair 


MR.    GILLESPIE'S    DIVERSIONS         335 

for  me  to  hold  those  things  against  him.  As  between 
him  and  Arthur;  as  between  him  and  Arthur — " 

Her  gaze  lay  across  the  twinkling  lake,  and  her  voice 
was  tremulous.  She  spoke  softly  as  though  to  herself,, 
and  I  caught  phrases  of  the  paragraph  of  her  father's 
will  that  Gillespie  had  read  to  me :  "Dishonor  as  it  is 
known,  accounted  and  reckoned  among  men;" — and  she 
bowed  her  head  on  the  veranda  rail  a  moment ;  then  she 
rose  suddenly  and  smiled  bravely  through  her  tears. 

"Why  can't  you  find  Arthur  for  me  ?  Ah,  if  you  could 
only  find  him  there  might  be  peace  between  us  all ;  for 
I  am  very  old,  Larry.  Age  without  peace  is  like  life 
without  hope.  I  can  not  believe  that  Arthur  is  dead.  I 
must  see  him  again.  Larry,  if  he  is  alive  find  him  and 
tell  him  to  come  to  me." 

"Yes/'  I  said;  "I  know  where  he  is !" 

She  started  in  amazement  and  coming  close,  her 
hands  closed  upon  my  arm  eagerly. 

"It  can't  be  possible !  You  know  where  he  is  and  you 
will  bring  him  to  me  ?" 

She  was  pitifully  eager  and  the  tears  were  bright  in 
her  eyes. 

"Be  assured  of  it,  Miss  Holbrook.  He  is  near  by  and 
well ;  but  you  must  not  trouble  about  him  or  about  any- 


336  ROSALIND    AT    EED    GATE 

thing.  And  now  I  am  going  to  take  you  home.  Come ! 
There  is  much  to  do,  and  I  must  be  off.  But  you  will 
keep  a  good  heart ;  you  are  near  the  end  of  your  difficul 
ties." 

She  was  quite  herself  again  when  we  reached  St.  Aga 
tha's,  but  at  the  door  she  detained  me  a  moment. 

"I  like  you,  Larry  I"  she  said,  taking  my  hand ;  and 
my  own  mother  had  not  given  me  sweeter  benediction. 
"I  never  intended  that  Helen  should  play  with  you.  She 
may  serve  me  as  she  likes,  but  I  don't  want  her  to  singe 
your  wings,  Larry." 

"I  have  been  shot  at  in  three  languages,  and  half 
drowned  in  others,  and  rewards  have  been  offered  for 
me.  Do  you  think  I'm  going  down  before  a  mere  matter 
of  beaux  yeux!  Think  better  of  me  than  that !" 

"But  she  is  treacherous;  she  will  deliver  you  to  the 
Philistines  without  losing  a  heart-beat." 
"She  could,  Miss  Patricia,,  but  she  won't !" 
"She  has  every  intention  of  marrying  Gillespie;  he's 
the  richest  man  she  knows !" 

"I  swear  to  you  that  she  shall  not  marry  Gillespie !" 
"She  would  do  it  to  annoy  me  if  for  nothing  else." 
I  took  both  her  hands — they  were  like  rose-leaves, 
those  dear  slightly  tremulous  hands ! 


ME.    GILLESPIE'S    DIVERSIONS         337 

"Now,  Miss  Pat — Fm  going  to  call  you  Miss  Pat  be 
cause  we're  such  old  friends,  and  we're  just  contempo 
raries,  anyhow — now,  Miss  Pat,  Helen  is  not  half  so 
wicked  as  she  thinks  she  is.  Gillespie  and  I  are  on  the 
best  of  terms.  He's  a  thoroughly  good  fellow  and  not 
half  the  fool  he  looks.  And  he  will  never  marry  Helen !" 

"I  should  like  to  know  what's  going  to  prevent  her 
from  marrying  him!"  she  demanded  as  I  stepped  back 
and  turned  to  go. 

"Oh,  I  am,  if  you  must  know !  I  have  every  intention 
of  marrying  her  myself !" 

I  ran  away  from  the  protest  that  was  faltering  upon 
her  lips,  and  strode  through  the  garden.  I  had  just 
reached  Glenarm  gate  on  my  way  back  to  the  boat-house 
when  a  woman's  voice  called  softly  and  Sister  Margaret 
hurried  round  a  turn  of  the  garden  path. 

"Mr.  Donovan  I" 

There  was  anxiety  in  the  voice,  and  more  anxious  still 
was  Sister  Margaret's  face  as  she  came  toward  me  in 
her  brown  habit,  her  hands  clasped  tensely  before  her. 
She  had  evidently  been  watching  for  me,  and  drew  back 
from  the  gate  into  a  quiet  recess  of  the  garden.  Her 
usual  repose  was  gone  and  her  face,  under  its  white  coif, 
showed  plainly  her  distress. 


338  KOSALIND   AT   EED   GATE 

"I  have  bad  news — Miss  Helen  has  gone !  I'm  afraid 
something  has  happened  to  her." 

"She  can't  have  gone  far,  Sister  Margaret.  When  did 
you  miss  her  ?"  I  asked  quietly ;  but  I  confess  that  I  was 
badly  shaken.  My  confident  talk  about  the  girl  with 
Miss  Pat  but  a  moment  before  echoed  ironically  in  my 
memory. 

"She  did  not  come  down  for  breakfast  with  her  aunt 
or  me,  but  I  thought  nothing  of  it,  as  I  have  urged  both 
of  them  to  breakfast  up-stairs.  Miss  Patricia  went  out 
for  a  walk.  An  hour  ago  I  tried  Helen's  door  and  found 
it  unlocked  and  her  room  empty.  When  or  how  she  left 
I  don't  know.  She  seems  to  have  taken  nothing  with 
her." 

"Can  you  tell  a  lie,  Sister  Margaret?" 

She  stared  at  me  with  so  shocked  an  air  that  I  laughed. 
"A  lie  in  a  good  cause,  I  mean?  Miss  Pat  must  not 
know  that  her  niece  has  gone — if  she  has  gone !  She  has 
probably  taken  one  of  the  canoes  for  a  morning  paddle ; 
or,  we  will  assume  that  she  has  borrowed  one  of  the 
Glenarm  horses,  as  she  has  every  right  to  do,  for  a  morn 
ing  gallop,  and  that  she  has  lost  her  way  or  gone  farther 
than  she  intended.  There  are  a  thousand  explanations !" 

"But  they  hardly  touch  the  fact  that  she  was  gone  all 


MB.    GILLESPIE'S   DIVERSIONS         339 

night;  or  that  a  strange  man  brought  a  note  addressed 
in  Helen's  handwriting  to  her  aunt  only  an  hour  ago." 

"Kidnapped !"— and  I  laughed  aloud  as  the  meaning 
of  her  disappearance  flashed  upon  me ! 

"I  don't  like  your  way  of  treating  this  matter  P  said 
Sister  Margaret  icily.  "The  girl  may  die  before  she  can 
be  brought  back.5' 

"No,  she  won't — my  word  for  it,  Sister  Margaret. 
Please  give  me  the  letter !" 

"But  it  is  not  for  you !" 

"Oh,  yes,  it  is !  You  wouldn't  have  Miss  Pat  subjected 
to  the  shock  of  a  demand  for  ransom.  Worse  than  that, 
Miss  Pat  has  little  enough  faith  in  Helen  as  it  is ;  and 
such  a  move  as  this  would  be  final.  This  kidnapping  is 
partly  designed  as  a  punishment  for  me,  and  I  propose 
to  take  care  of  it  without  letting  Miss  Pat  know.  She 
shall  never  know !" 

Sister  Margaret,  only  half  convinced,  drew  an  en 
velope  from  her  girdle  and  gave  it  to  me  doubtfully.  I 
glanced  at  the  superscription  and  then  tore  it  across,  re 
peating  the  process  until  it  was  a  mass  of  tiny  particles, 
which  I  poured  into  Sister  Margaret's  hands. 

"Burn  them !  Now  Miss  Pat  will  undoubtedly  ask  for 
her  niece  at  once.  I  suggest  that  you  take  care  that  she 


340  ROSALIND   AT   EED    GATE 

is  not  distressed  by  Helen's  absence.  If  it  is  necessary 
to  reward  your  house-maid  for  her  discretion — "  I  said 
with  hesitation. 

"Oh,  I  disarranged  Helen's  bed  so  that  the  maid 
wouldn't  know !" — and  Sister  Margaret  blushed. 

"Splendid !  I  can  teach  you  nothing,  Sister  Margaret ! 
Please  help  me  this  much  further:  get  one  of  Miss 
Helen's  dresses — that  blue  one  she  plays  tennis  in,  per 
haps — and  put  it  in  a  bag  of  some  kind  and  give  it  to 
my  Jap  when  he  calls  for  it  in  ten  minutes.  Now  listen 
to  me  carefully,  Sister  Margaret :  I  shall  meet  you  here 
at  twelve  o'clock  with  a  girl  who  shall  be,  to  all  intents 
and  purposes,  Helen  Holbrook.  In  fact,  she  will  be  some 
one  else.  Now  I  expect  you  to  carry  off  the  situation 
through  luncheon  and  until  nightfall,  when  I  expect 
to  bring  Helen — the  real  Helen — back  here.  Meanwhile, 
tell  Miss  Pat  anything  you  like,  quoting  me !  Good-by !" 

I  left  her  abruptly  and  was  running  toward  Glenarm 
House  to  rouse  Ijima,  when  I  bumped  into  Gillespie, 
who  had  been  told  at  the  house  that  I  was  somewhere 
in  the  grounds. 

"What's  doing,  Irishman  ?"  he  demanded. 

"Nothing,  Buttons;  I'm  just  exercising." 

His  white  flannels  were  as  fresh  as  the  morning,  and 


MR.    GILLESPIE'S   DIVERSIONS         341 

he  wore  a  little  blue  cap  perched  saucily  on  the  side  of 
his  head. 

"I  was  pondering,"  he  began,  "the  futility  of  man's 
effort  to  be  helpful  toward  his  fellows." 

He  leaned  upon  his  stick  and  eyed  me  with  solemn 
vacuity. 

"I  suppose  I'll  have  to  hear  it ;  go  on." 

"I  was  always  told  in  my  youth  that  when  an  oppor 
tunity  to  do  good  offered  one  should  seize  upon  it  at 
once.  No  hesitation,  no  trifling !  Only  a  few  years  ago 
I  wandered  into  a  little  church  in  a  hill  town  of  Massa 
chusetts  where  I  waited  for  the  Boston  Express.  It  was 
a  beautiful  Sunday  evening — I  shall  never  forget  it!" 
he  sighed.  "I  am  uncertain  whether  I  was  led  thither 
by  good  impulse,  or  only  because  the  pews  were  more 
comfortable  than  the  benches  at  the  railway  station.  I 
arrived  early  and  an  usher  seated  me  up  front  near  a 
window  and  gave  me  an  armful  of  books  and  a  pam 
phlet  on  foreign  missions.  Other  people  began  to  come 
in  pretty  soon;  and  then  I  heard  a  lot  of  giggling 
and  a  couple  of  church  pillars  began  chasing  a  stray 
dog  up  and  down  the  aisles.  I  was  placing  my  money 
on  the  taller  pillar;  he  had  the  best  reach  of  leg,  and, 
besides,  the  other  chap  had  side  whiskers,  which  are  not 


342  ROSALIND   AT   BED   GATE  ' 

good  for  sprinting, — they  offer  just  so  much  more  resist 
ance  to  the  wind.  The  unseemliness  of  the  thing  of 
fended  my  sense  of  propriety.  The  sound  of  the  chase 
broke  in  harshly  upon  my  study  of  Congo  missions. 
After  much  pursuing  the  dog  sought  refuge  be 
tween  my  legs.  I  picked  him  up  tenderly  in  my  arms 
and  dropped  him  gently,  Donovan,  gently,  from  the  win 
dow.  Now  wasn't  that  seizing  an  opportunity  when  you 
found  it,  so  to  speak,  underfoot?" 

"No  doubt  of  it  at  all.  Hurry  with  the  rest  of  it,  But 
tons  !" 

"Well,  that  pup  fell  with  a  sickening  yelp  through  a 
skylight  into  the  basement  where  the  choir  was  vesting 
itself,  and  hit  a  bishop — actually  struck  a  young  and 
promising  bishop  who  had  never  done  anything  to  me. 
They  got  the  constable  and  made  a  horrible  row,  and 
besides  paying  for  the  skylight  I  had  to  give  the  church 
a  new  organ  to  square  myself  with  the  bishop,  who  was 
a  friend  of  a  friend  of  mine  in  Kentucky  who  once  gave 
me  a  tip  on  the  Derby.  Since  then  the  very  thought  of 
foreign  missions  makes  me  ill.  I  always  hear  that  dog — 
it  was  the  usual  village  mongrel  of  evil  ancestry — crash 
ing  through  the  skylight.  What's  doing  this  morning, 
Irishman  ?" 


ME.    GILLESPIE'S    DIVERSIONS         343 

I  linked  my  arm  in  his  and  led  the  way  toward  Glen- 
arm  House.  There  was  much  to  be  done  before  I  could 
bring  together  the  warring  members  of  the  house  of  Hoi- 
brook,  and  Gillespie  could,  I  felt,  be  relied  on  in  emer 
gencies.  He  broke  forth  at  once. 

"I  want  to  see  her — I've  got  to  see  her  I" 

"Who — Helen?  Then  you'll  have  to  wait  a  while,  for 
she's  gone  for  a  paddle  or  a  gallop,  I'm  not  sure  which, 
and  won't  be  back  for  a  couple  of  hours.  But  you  have 
grown  too  daring.  Miss  Pat  is  still  here,  and  you  can't 
expect  me  to  arrange  meetings  for  you  every  day  in  the 
year." 

"I've  got  to  see  her,"  he  repeated,  and  his  tone  was 
utterly  joyless.  "I  don't  understand  her,  Donovan." 

"Man  is  not  expected  to  understand  woman,  my  dear 
Buttons.  At  the  casino  last  night  everything  was  as  gay 
as  an  octogenarian's  birthday  cake." 

He  stopped  in  the  shadow  of  the  house  and  seized  my 
arm. 

"You  told  her  something  about  me  last  night.  She 
was  all  right  until  you  took  her  away  and  talked  with 
her  at  the  casino.  On  the  way  home  she  was  moody  and 
queer — a  different  girl  altogether.  You  are  not  on  the 
square;  you  are  playing  on  too  many  sides  of  this  game." 


344  EOSALIND   AT    EED    GATE 

"You're  in  love,  that's  all.  These  suspicions  and  ap 
prehensions  are  leading  symptoms.  Up  there  at  the 
casino,  with  the  water  washing  beneath  and  the  stars 
overhead  and  the  band  playing  waltzes,  a  spell  was  upon 
you  both.  Even  a  hardened  old  sinner  like  me  could  feel 
it.  I've  had  palpitations  all  day !  Cheer  up !  In  your 
own  happy  phrase,  everything  points  to  plus." 

"I  tell  you  she  turned  on  me,  and  that  you  are  re 
sponsible  for  it !" — and  he  glared  at  me  angrily. 

"Now,  Buttons!  You're  not  going  to  take  that  atti 
tude  toward  me,  after  all  I  have  done  for  you !  I  really 
took  some  trouble  to  arrange  that  little  meeting  last 
night;  and  here  you  come  with  sad  eye  and  mournful 
voice  and  rebuke  me !" 

"I  tell  you  she  was  different.  She  had  never  been  so 
kind  to  me  as  she  was  there  at  the  casino;  but  as  we 
came  back  she  changed,  and  was  ready  to  fling  me 
aside.  I  asked  her  to  leave  this  place  and  marry  me 
to-day,  and  she  only  laughed  at  me !" 

"Now,  Buttons,  you  are  letting  your  imagination  get 
the  better  of  your  common  sense.  If  you're  going  to  take 
your  lady's  moods  so  hard  you'd  better  give  up  trying  to 
understand  the  ways  of  woman.  It's  wholly  possible  that 
Helen  was  tired  and  didn't  want  to  be  made  love  to.  It 


MR,    GILLESPIE'S    DIVERSIONS         345 

seems  to  me  that  you  are  singularly  lacking  in  consider 
ation.  But  I  can't  talk  to  you  all  morning;  I  have  other 
tilings  to  do;  but  if  you  will  find  a  cool  corner  of  the 
house  and  look  at  picture-books  until  I'm  free  I'll  prom 
ise  to  be  best  man  for  you  when  you're  married ;  and  I 
predict  your  marriage  before  Christmas — a  happy  union 
of  the  ancient  houses  of  Holbrook  and  Gillespie.  Run 
along  like  a  good  boy  and  don't  let  Miss  Pat  catch  sight 
of  you." 

"Do  you  keep  a  goat,  a  donkey  or  a  mule — any  of  the 
more  ruminative  animals  ?"  he  asked  with  his  saddest  in 
tonation. 

"The  cook  keeps  a  parrot,  and  there's  a  donkey  in  one 
of  the  pastures." 

"Good.  Are  his  powers  of  vocalization  unimpaired  ?" 

"First  rate.  I  occasionally  hear  his  vesper  hymn.  He's 
in  good  voice." 

"Then  I  may  speak  to  him,  soul  to  soul,  if  I  find  that 
I  bore  myself." 

We  climbed  the  steps  to  the  cool  shadows  of  the  ter 
race.  As  we  stood  a  moment  looking  out  on  the  lake  we 
saw,  far  away  toward  the  northern  shore,  the  Stiletto, 
that  seemed  just  to  have  slipped  out  from  the  lower 
lake.  The  humor  of  the  situation  pleased  me;  Helen 


346  ROSALIND   AT   RED    GATE 

was  off  there  in  the  sloop  playing  at  being  kidnapped  to 
harass  her  aunt  into  coming  to  terms  with  Henry  Hoi- 
brook,  and  she  was  doubtless  rejoicing  in  the  fact  that 
she  had  effected  a  combination  of  events  that  would  make 
her  father's  case  irresistible. 

But  there  was  no  time  to  lose.  I  made  Gillespie  com 
fortable  indoors  and  sent  Ijima  to  get  the  bag  I  had 
asked  for ;  and  a  few  minutes  later  the  launch  was  skim 
ming  over  the  water  toward  the  canoe-makers  house  at 
Red  Gate. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE  ROCKET  SIGNAL 

Blow  up  the  trumpet  in  the  new  moon. 

— The  Psalter. 

Eosalind  was  cutting  sweet  peas  in  the  garden  where 
they  climbed  high  upon  a  filmy  net,  humming  softly  to 
herself.  She  was  culling  out  white  ones,  which  somehow 
suggested  her  own  white  butterflies — a  proper  business 
for  any  girl  on  a  sunny  morning,  with  the  dew  still 
bright  where  the  shadows  lay,  with  bird-wings  flashing 
about  her,  and  the  kindliest  of  airs  blowing  her  hair. 

"A  penny  for  your  thoughts !"  I  challenged. 

She  snipped  an  imaginary  flower  from  the  air  in  my 
direction. 

"Keep  your  money !  I  was  not  thinking  of  you !  You 
wear,  sir,  an  intent  commercial  air;  have  you  thread 
and  needles  in  your  pack  ?" 

"It  is  ordained  that  we  continue  the  game  of  last 
night.  To-day  you  are  to  invade  the  very  citadel  and 

347 


348  ROSALIND    AT    RED    GATE 

deceive  your  aunt.  Your  cousin  has  left  without  notice 
and  the  situation  demands  prompt  action." 

I  was  already  carrying  the  suit-case  toward  the  house, 
explaining  as  we  walked  along  together. 

"But  was  I  so  successful  last  night?  Was  he  really 
deceived,  or  did  he  just  play  that  he  was  ?" 

"He's  madly  in  love  with  you.  You  stole  away  all 
his  senses.  But  he  thought  you  changed  toward  him  un 
accountably  on  the  way  home." 

"But  why  didn't  she  tell  him? — she  must  have  told 
him." 

"Oh,  I  took  care  of  that !  I  rather  warned  her  against 
betraying  us.  And  now  she's  trying  to  punish  me  by  be 
ing  kidnapped !" 

Rosalind  paused  at  the  threshold,  gathering  the  stems 
of  the  sweet  peas  in  her  hands. 

"Do  you  think,"  she  began,  "do  you  think  he  really 
liked  me — I  mean  the  real  me  ?" 

"Like  you !  That  is  not  the  right  word  for  it.  He's 
gloomily  dreaming  of  you — the  real  you — at  this  very 
moment  over  at  Glenarm.  But  do  hasten  into  these 
things  that  Sister  Margaret  picked  out  for  you.  I  must 
see  your  father  before  I  carry  you  off.  We've  no  time 
to  waste,  I  can  tell  you !" 


THE    ROCKET    SIGNAL  349 

The  canoe-maker  heard  my  story  in  silence  and  shook 
his  head. 

"It  is  impossible;  we  should  only  get  into  deeper 
trouble.  I  have  no  great  faith  in  this  resemblance.  It 
may  have  worked  once  on  young  Gillespie,  but  women 
have  sharper  eyes." 

"But  it  must  be  tried !"  I  pleaded.  "We  are  approach 
ing  the  end  of  these  troubles,  and  nothing  must  be  al 
lowed  to  interfere.  Your  sister  wishes  to  see  you ;  this  is 
her  birthday." 

"So  it  is !  So  it  is  I"  exclaimed  the  canoe-maker  with 
feeling. 

"Helen  must  be  saved  from  her  own  folly.  Her  aunt 
must  not  know  of  this  latest  exploit ;  it  would  ruin  every 
thing." 

As  we  debated  Rosalind  joined  her  persuasions  to 
mine. 

"Aunt  Pat  must  not  know  what  Helen  has  done  if  we 
can  help  it,"  she  said. 

While  she  changed  her  clothes  I  talked  on  at  the 
house-boat  with  her  father. 

"My  sister  has  asked  for  me  ?" 

"Yes;  your  sister  is  ready  to  settle  with  Henry;  but 
she  wishes  to  see  you  first.  She  has  begged  me  to  find 


350  ROSALIND   AT   RED   GATE 

you ;  but  Helen  must  go  back  to  her  aunt.  This  fraudu 
lent  kidnapping  must  never  be  known  to  Miss  Pat.  And 
on  the  other  hand,,  I  hope  it  may  not  be  necessary  for 
Helen  to  know  the  truth  about  her  father." 

"I  dare  say  she  would  sacrifice  my  own  daughter 
quickly  enough,"  he  said. 

"No;  you  are  wrong;  I  do  not  believe  it !  She  is  mak 
ing  no  war  on  you,  or  on  her  aunt!  It's  against  me! 
She  enjoys  a  contest;  she's  trying  to  beat  me." 

"She  believes  that  I  forged  the  Gillespie  notes  and 
ruined  her  father.  Henry  has  undoubtedly  told  her  so." 

"Yes;  and  he  has  used  her  to  get  them  away  from 
young  Gillespie.  There's  no  question  about  that.  But  I 
have  the  notes,  and  I  propose  holding  them  for  your 
protection.  But  I  don't  want  to  use  them  if  I  can  help 
it." 

"I  appreciate  what  you  are  doing  for  me/'  he  said 
quietly,  but  his  eyes  were  still  troubled  and  I  saw  that 
he  had  little  faith  in  the  outcome. 

"Your  sister  is  disposed  to  deal  generously  with  Henry. 
She  does  not  know  where  the  dishonor  lies." 

"'We  are  all  honorable  men,'"  he  replied  bitterly, 
slowly  pacing  the  floor.  His  sleeves  were  rolled  away 
from  his  sun-browned  arms,  his  shirt  was  open  at  the 


THE   ROCKET    SIGNAL  351 

throat,  and  though  he  wore  the  rough  clothes  of  a  me 
chanic  he  looked  more  the  artist  at  work  in  a  rural 
studio  than  the  canoe-maker  of  the  Tippecanoe.  He 
walked  to  a  window  and  looked  down  for  a  moment  upon 
the  singing  creek,  then  came  back  to  me  and  spoke  in  a 
different  tone. 

"I  have  given  these  years  of  my  life  to  protecting  my 
brother,  and  they  must  not  be  wasted.  I  have  nothing  to 
say  against  him ;  I  shall  keep  silent/' 

"He  has  forfeited  every  right.  Now  is  your  time  to 
punish  him/'  I  said;  but  Arthur  Hclbrook  only  looked 
at  me  pityingly. 

"I  don't  want  revenge,  Mr.  Donovan,  but  I  am  almost 
in  a  mood  for  justice,"  he  said  with  a  rueful  smile;  and 
just  then  Eosalind  entered  the  shop. 

"Is  my  fate  decided  ?"  she  demanded. 

The  sight  of  her  seemed  to  renew  the  canoe-maker's 
distress,  and  I  led  the  way  at  once  to  the  door.  I  think 
that  in  spite  of  my  efforts  to  be  gay  and  to  carry  the  af 
fair  off  lightly,  we  all  felt  that  the  day  was  momentous. 

"When  shall  I  expect  you  back?"  asked  Holbrook, 
when  we  had  reached  the  launch. 

"Early  to-night,"  I  answered. 

"But  if  anything  should  happen  here?"    The  tears 


352  ROSALIND   AT    RED    GATE 

flashed  in  Rosalind's  eyes,  and  she  clung  a  moment 
to  his  hand. 

"He  will  hardly  be  troubled  by  daylight,  and  this 
evening  he  can  send  up  a  rocket  if  any  one  molests  him. 
Go  ahead,  Ijima !" 

As  we  cleared  Battle  Orchard  and  sped  on  toward 
Glenarm  there  was  a  sting  in  the  wind,  and  Lake  An- 
nandale  had  fretted  itself  into  foam.  We  saw  the 
Stiletto  running  prettily  before  the  wind  along  the 
Glenarm  shore,  and  I  stopped  the  engine  before  crossing 
her  wake  and  let  the  launch  jump  the  wa,ves.  Helen 
would  not,  I  hoped,  believe  me  capable  of  attempting  to 
palm  off  Rosalind  on  Miss  Pat;  and  I  had  no  wish  to 
undeceive  her.  My  passenger  had  wrapped  herself  in  my 
mackintosh  and  taken  my  cap,  so  that  at  the  distance  at 
which  we  passed  she  was  not  recognizable. 

Sister  Margaret  was  waiting  for  us  at  the  Glenarm 
pier.  I  had  been  a  little  afraid  of  Sister  Margaret.  It 
was  presuming  a  good  deal  to  take  her  into  the  con 
spiracy,  and  I  stood  by  in  apprehension  while  she  scru 
tinized  Rosalind.  She  was  clearly  bewildered  and  drew 
close  to  the  girl,  as  Rosalind  threw  off  the  wet  mackin 
tosh  and  flung  down  the  dripping  cap. 

"Will  she  do,  Sister  Margaret?" 


THE    ROCKET    SIGNAL  353 

"I  believe  she  will;  I  really  believe  she  will!"  And 
the  Sister's  face  brightened  with  relief.  She  had  a  color 
in  her  face  that  I  had  not  seen  before,  as  the  joy  of  the 
situation  took  hold  of  her.  She  was,  I  realized,  a  woman 
after  all,  and  a  young  woman  at  that,  with  a  heart  not 
hardened  against  life's  daily  adventures. 

"It  is  time  for  luncheon.  Miss  Pat  expects  you,  too/5 

"Then  I  must  leave  you  to  instruct  Miss  Holbrook  and 
carry  off  the  first  meeting.  Miss  Holbrook  has  been — " 

" — For  a  long  walk" — the  Sister  supplied — "and  will 
enter  St.  Agatha's  parlor  a  little  tired  from  her  tramp. 
She  shall  go  at  once  to  her  room — with  me.  I  have  put 
out  a  white  gown  for  her;  and  at  luncheon  we  will  talk 
only  of  safe  things." 

"And  I  shall  have  this  bouquet  of  sweet  peas,"  added 
Rosalind,  "that  I  brought  from  a  farmer's  garden  near 
by,  as  an  offering  for  Aunt  Pat's  birthday.  And  you 
will  both  be  there  to  keep  me  from  making  mistakes." 

"Then  after  luncheon  we  shall  drive  until  Miss  Pat's 
birthday  dinner ;  and  the  dinner  shall  be  on  the  terrace 
at  Glenarm,  which  is  even  now  being  decorated  for  a  fete 
occasion.  And  before  the  night  is  old  Helen  shall  be 
back.  Good  luck  attend  us  all !"  I  said ;  and  we  parted 
in  the  best  of  spirits. 


354  ROSALIND    AT    RED    GATE 

I  had  forgotten  Gillespie,  and  was  surprised  to  find 
him  at  the  table  in  my  room,  absorbed  in  business 
papers. 

"  'Button,  button,  who's  got  the  button !' "  he  chanted 
as  he  looked  me  over.  "You  appear  to  have  been  swim 
ming  in  your  clothes.  I  had  my  mail  sent  out  here. 
I've  got  to  shut  down  the  factory  at  Ponsocket.  The 
thought  of  it  bores  me  extravagantly.  What  timers 
luncheon?" 

"Whenever  you  ring  three  times.  I'm  lunching  out/'' 

"Ladies?"  he  asked,  raising  his  brows.  "You  appear 
to  be  a  little  social  favorite ;  couldn't  you  get  me  in  on 
something  ?  How  about  dinner  ?" 

"I  am  myself  entertaining  at  dinner;  and  your  name 
isn't  on  the  list,  I'm  sorry  to  say,  Buttons.  But  to 
morrow  !  Everything  will  be  possible  to-morrow.  I  ex 
pect  Miss  Pat  and  Helen  here  to-night.  It's  Miss 
Pat's  birthday,  and  I  want  to  make  it  a  happy  day  for 
her.  She's  going  to  settle  with  Henry  as  soon  as  some 
preliminaries  are  arranged,  so  the  war's  nearly  over." 

"She  can't  settle  with  him  until  something  definite  is 
known  about  Arthur.  If  he's  really  dead — " 

"I've  promised  to  settle  that;  but  I  must  hurry  now. 
Will  you  meet  me  at  the  Glenarm  boat-house  at  eight? 


THE    KOCKET    SIGNAL  355 

If  I'm  not  there,  wait.  I  shall  have  something  for  you 
to  do." 

"Meanwhile  I'm  turned  out  of  your  house,  am  I  ?  But 
I  positively  decline  to  go  until  I'm  fed." 

As  I  got  into  a  fresh  coat  he  played  a  lively  tune  on 
the  electric  bell,  and  I  left  him  giving  his  orders  to  the 
butler. 

I  was  reassured  by  the  sound  of  voices  as  I  passed 
under  the  windows  of  St.  Agatha's,  and  Sister  Margaret 
met  me  in  the  hall  with  a  smiling  face. 

"Luncheon  waits.  We  will  go  out  at  once.  Everything 
has  passed  off  smoothly,  perfectly." 

I  did  not  dare  look  at  Eosalind  until  we  were  seated 
in  the  dining-room.  Her  sweet  peas  graced  the  center 
of  the  round  table,  and  Sister  Margaret  had  placed 
them  in  a  tall  vase  so  that  Eosalind  was  well  screened 
from  her  aunt's  direct  gaze.  The  Sister  had  managed 
admirably.  Eosalind's  hair  was  swept  up  in  exactly 
Helen's  pompadour ;  and  in  one  of  Helen's  white  gowns, 
with  Helen's  own  particular  shade  of  scarlet  ribbon  at 
her  throat  and  waist,  the  resemblance  was  even  more 
complete  than  I  had  thought  it  before.  But  we  were 
cast  at  once  upon  deep  waters. 

"Helen,  where  did  you  find  that  article  on  Charles 


356  ROSALIND   AT    RED    GATE 

Lamb  you  read  the  other  evening?  I  have  looked  for  it 
everywhere." 

Rosalind  took  rather  more  time  than  was  necessary  to 
help  herself  to  the  asparagus,  and  my  heart  sank;  but 
Sister  Margaret  promptly  saved  the  day. 

"It  was  in  the  Round  World.  That  article  we  were 
reading  on  The  Authorship  of  the  Collects  is  in  the  same 
number." 

"Yes ;  of  course,"  said  Rosalind,  turning  to  me. 

Art  seemed  a  safe  topic;  and  I  steered  for  the  open, 
and  spoke  in  a  large  way,  out  of  my  ignorance,  of 
Michelangelo's  influence,  winding  up  presently  with  a 
suggestion  that  Miss  Pat  should  have  her  portrait 
painted.  This  was  a  successful  stroke,  for  we  all  fell  into 
a  discussion  of  contemporaneous  portrait  painters  about 
whom  Sister  Margaret  fortunately  knew  something ;  but 
a  cold  chill  went  down  my  back  a  moment  later  when 
Miss  Pat  turned  upon  Rosalind  and  asked  her  a  direct 
question: 

"Helen,  what  was  the  name  of  the  artist  who  did  that 
miniature  of  your  mother  ?" 

Sister  Margaret  swallowed  a  glass  of  water,  and  I 
stooped  to  pick  up  my  napkin. 

"Van  Arsdel,  wasn't  it?"  asked  Rosalind  instantly. 


THE    ROCKET    SIGNAL  357 

"Yes;  so  it  was,"  replied  Miss  Pat.  Luck  was  favor 
ing  us,  and  Rosalind  was  rising  to  the  emergency  splen 
didly.  It  appeared  afterward  that  her  own  mother  had 
been  painted  by  the  same  artist,  and  she  had  boldly 
risked  the  guess.  Sister  Margaret  and  I  were  frightened 
into  a  discussion  of  the  possibilities  of  aerial  navigation, 
with  a  vague  notion,  I  think,  of  keeping  the  talk  in  the 
air,  and  it  sufficed  until  we  had  concluded  the  simple 
luncheon.  I  walked  beside  Miss  Pat  to  the  parlor.  The 
sky  had  cleared,  and  I  broached  a  drive  at  once.  I  had 
read  in  the  newspapers  that  a  considerable  body  of  reg 
ular  troops  was  passing  near  Annandale  on  a  practice 
march  from  Fort  Sheridan  to  a  rendezvous  somewhere 
to  the  south  of  us. 

"Let  us  go  and  see  the  soldiers,"  I  suggested. 

"Very  well,  Larry,"  she  said.  "We  can  make  believe 
they  are  sent  out  to  do  honor  to  my  birthday.  You  are  a 
thoughtful  boy.  I  can  never  thank  you  for  all  your 
consideration  and  kindness.  And  you  will  not  fail  to 
find  Arthur, — I  am  asking  you  no  questions ;  Fd  rather 
not  know  where  he  is.  Fm  afraid  of  truth !"  She  turned 
her  head  away  quickly — we  were  seated  by  ourselves  in 
a  corner  of  the  room.  "I  am  afraid,  I  am  afraid  to 
ask!" 


358  ROSALIND   AT    BED    GATE 

"He  is  well;  quite  well.  I  shall  have  news  of  him 
to-night." 

She  glanced  across  the  room  to  where  Rosalind  and 
Sister  Margaret  talked  quietly  together.  I  felt  Miss 
Pat's  hand  touch  mine,  and  suddenly  there  were  tears 
in  her  eyes. 

"I  was  wrong!  I  was  most  unjust  in  what  I  said  to 
you  of  her.  She  was  all  tenderness,  all  gentleness  when 
she  came  in  this  morning."  She  fumbled  at  her  belt  and 
held  up  a  small  cluster  of  the  sweet  peas  that  Rosalind 
had  brought  from  Red  Gate. 

"I  told  you  so  \"  I  said,  trying  to  laugh  off  her  con 
trition.  "What  you  said  to  me  is  forgotten,  Miss  Pat." 

"And  now  when  everything  is  settled,  if  she  wants 
to  marry  Gillespie,  let  her  do  it." 

"But  she  won't !  Haven't  I  told  you  that  Helen  shall 
never  marry  him?" 

I  had  ordered  a  buckboard,  and  it  was  now  announced. 

"Don't  trouble  to  go  up-stairs,  Aunt  Pat ;  I  will  bring 
your  things  for  you,"  said  Rosalind;  and  Miss  Pat 
turned  upon  me  with  an  air  of  satisfaction  and  pride, 
as  much  as  to  say,  "You  see  how  devoted  she  is  to  me !" 

I  wish  to  acknowledge  here  my  obligations  to  Sister 
Margaret  for  giving  me  the  benefit  of  her  care  and 


THE   ROCKET    SIGNAL  359 

resourcefulness  on  that  difficult  day.  There  was  no  nice 
detail  that  she  overlooked,  no  danger  that  she  did  not 
anticipate.  She  sat  by  Miss  Pat  on  the  long  drive,  while 
Rosalind  and  I  chattered  nonsense  behind  them.  We 
were  so  fortunate  as  to  strike  the  first  battalion,  and 

saw  it  go  into  camp  on  a  bit  of  open  prairie  to  await 

• 
the  arrival  of  the  artillery  that  followed.  But  at  no  time 

did  I  lose  sight  of  the  odd  business  that  still  lay  ahead 
of  me,  nor  did  I  remember  with  any  satisfaction  how 
Helen,  somewhere  across  woodland  and  lake,  chafed  at 
the  delayed  climax  of  her  plot.  The  girl  at  my  side, 
lovely  and  gracious  as  she  was,  struck  me  increasingly 
as  but  a  tame  shadow  of  that  other  one,  so  like  and  so 
unlike !  I  marveled  that  Miss  Pat  had  not  seen  it ;  and 
in  a  period  of  silence  on  the  drive  home  I  think  Rosa 
lind  must  have  guessed  my  thought;  for  I  caught  her 
regarding  me  with  a  mischievous  smile  and  she  said, 
as  Miss  Pat  and  Sister  Margaret  rather  too  generously 
sought  to  ignore  us : 

"You  can  see  now  how  different  I  am — how  .very 
different!" 

When  I  left  them  at  St.  Agatha's  with,  an  hour  to 
spare  before  dinner,  Sister  Margaret  assured  me  with 
her  eyes  that  there  was  nothing  to  fear. 


360  ROSALIND    AT    EED    GATE 

I  was  nervously  pacing  the  long  terrace  when  I  saw 
my  guests  approaching.  I  told  the  butler  to  order  din 
ner  at  once  and  went  down  to  meet  them.  Miss  Pat 
declared  that  she  never  felt  better ;  and  under  the  excite 
ment  of  the  hour  Sister  Margaret's  eyes  glowed  brightly. 

"Sister  Margaret  is  wonderful!"  whispered  Eosalind. 
"Aren't  my  clothes  becoming  ?  She  found  them  and  got 
me  into  them ;  and  she  has  kept  me  away  from  Aunt  Pat 
and  taken  me  over  the  hard  places  wonderfully.  I 
really  don't  know  who  I  am"  she  laughed;  "but  it's 
quite  clear  that  you  have  seen  the  difference.  I  must 
play  up  now  and  try  to  be  brilliant — like  Helen !"  she 
said.  "I  can  tell  by  the  things  in  Helen's  room,  that 
I'm  much  less  sophisticated.  I  found  his  photograph, 
by  the  way !" 

"What!"  I  cried  so  abruptly  that  the  others  turned 
and  looked  at  us.  Rosalind  laughed  in  honest  glee. 

"Mr.  Gillespie's  photograph.  I  think  I  shall  keep  it. 
It  was  upside  down  in  a  trunk  where  Sister  Margaret 
told  me  I  should  find  these  pretty  slippers.  Do  you 
know,  this  playing  at  being  somebody  else  is  positively 
uncanny.  But  this  gown — isn't  it  fetching?" 

"It's  pink,  isn't  it?  You  said  that  photograph  was 
face  down,  didn't  you?" 


THE    ROCKET    SIGNAL  361 

"It  was!  And  at  the  very  bottom  under  a  pair  of 
overshoes." 

"Well,  I  hope  you  will  be  go'od  to  him,"  I  observed. 

"Mr.  Donovan,"  she  said,  in  a  mocking  tone  that 
was  so  like  Helen's  that  I  stared  stupidly,  "Mr.  Dono 
van,  you  are  a  person  of  amazing  penetration !" 

As  we  sat  down  in  the  screened  corner  of  the  broad 
terrace,  with  the  first  grave  approach  of  twilight  in  the 
sky,  and  the  curved  trumpet  of  the  young  moon  hanging 
in  the  west,  it  might  have  seemed  to-  an  onlooker  that 
the  gods  of  chance  had  oddly  ordered  our  little  company. 
Miss  Patricia  in  white  was  a  picture  of  serenity,  with 
the  smile  constant  about  her  lips,  happy  in  her  hope 
for  the  future.  Rosalind,  fresh  to  these  surroundings, 
showed  clearly  her  pleasure  in  the  pretty  setting  of  the 
scene,  and  read  into  it,  in  bright  phrases,  the  delight  of 
a  story-book  incident. 

"Let  me  see,"  she  said  reflectively,  "just  who  we  are: 
we  are  the  lady  of  the  castle  perilous  dining  al  fresco, 
with  the  abbess,  who  is  also  a  noble  lady,  come  across  the 
fields  to  sit  at  meat  with  her.  And  you,  sir,  are  a  knight 
full  orgulous,  feared  in  many  lands,  and  sworn  to  the 
defense  of  these  ladies." 

"And  you," — and  Miss  Pat's  eyes  were  beautifully 


362  ROSALIND    AT    RED    GATE 

kind  and  gentle,  as  she  took  the  cue,  and  turned  to 
Rosalind,  "you  are  the  well-loved  daughter  of  my  house, 
faithful  in  all  service,  in  all  ways  self-forgetful  and 
kind,  our  hope,  our  joy  and  our  pride." 

It  may  have  been  the  spirit  of  the  evening  that 
touched  us,  or  only  the  light  of  her  countenance  and  the 
deep  sincerity  of  her  voice ;  but  I  knew  that  tears  were 
bright  in  all  our  eyes  for  a  moment.  And  then  Rosa 
lind  glanced  at  the  western  heavens  through  the  foliage. 

"There  are  the  stars,  Aunt  Pat — brighter  than  ever 
to-night  for  your  birthday." 

Presently,  as  the  dark  gathered  about  us,  the  candles 
were  lighted,  and  their  glow  shut  out  the  world.  To  my 
relief  the  three  women  carried  the  talk  alone,  leaving 
me  to  my  own  thoughts  of  Helen  and  my  plans  for  re 
storing  her  to  her  aunt  with  no  break  in  the  new  confi 
dence  that  Rosalind  had  inspired.  I  had  so  completely 
yielded  myself  to  this  undercurrent  of  reflection  that 
I  was  startled  to  find  Miss  Pat  with  the  coffee  service 
before  her. 

"Larry,  yon  axe  dreaming.  How  can  I  remember 
whether  you  take  sugar?" 

Sister  Margaret's  eyes  were  upon  me  reproachfully 
for  my  inattention,  and  my  heart-beats  quickened  as 


THE    ROCKET    SIGNAL  363 

eight  strokes  of  the  chapel  chime  stole  lingeringly 
through  the  quiet  air.  I  had  half -raised  my  cup  when  I 
was  startled  by  a  question  from  Miss  Pat — a  request 
innocent  enough  and  spoken,  it  seemed,  utterly  without 
intention. 

"Let  me  see  your  ring  a  moment,  Helen." 
Sisfer  Margaret  flashed  a  glance  of  inquiry  at  me, 
but  Rosalind  met  the  situation  instantly. 

"Certainly,  Aunt  Pat," — and  she  slipped  the  ring 
from  her  finger,  passed  it  across  the  table,  and  folded 
hex  hands  quietly  upon  the  white  cloth.  She  did  not  look 
at  me,  but  I  saw  her  breath  come  and  go  quickly.  If 
the  rings  were  not  the  same  then  we  were  undone. 
This  thought  gripped  the  three  of  us,  and  I  heard  my 
cup  beating  a  tattoo  on  the  edge  of  my  saucer  in  the 
tense  silence,  while  Miss  Pat  bent  close  to  the  candle 
before  her  and  studied  the  ring,  turning  it  over  slowly. 
Rosalind  half  opened  her  lips  to  speak,  but  Sister  Mar 
garet's  snowy  hand  clasped  the  girl's  fingers.  The  little 
circlet  of  gold  with  its  beautiful  green  stone  had  been 
to  me  one  of  the  convincing  items  of  the  remarkable 
resemblance  between  the  cousins;  but  if  there  should  be 
some  differentiating  mark  Miss  Pat  was  not  so  stupid  as 
to  overlook  it. 


364  EOSALIND    AT    'BED    GATE 

Miss  Pat  put  down  the  ring  abruptly,  and  looked  at 
Eosalind  and  then  smiled  quizzically  at  me. 

''You  are  a  clever  boy,  Larry/' 

Then,  turning  to  Eosalind,  Miss  Pat  remarked,  with 
the  most  casual  air  imaginable : 

"Helen  pronounces  either  with  the  long  e.  I  noticed 
at  luncheon  that  you  say  eyether.  Where's  your  father, 
Eosalind?" 

My  eyes  were  turning  from  her  to  Eosalind  when,  on 
her  last  word,  as  though  by  prearranged  signal,  far 
across  the  water,  against  the  dark  shadows  of  the  lake's 
remoter  shore,  a  rocket's  spent  ball  broke  and  flung  its 
stars  against  the  night. 

I  spoke  no  word,  but  leaped  over  the  stone  balustrade 
and  ran  to  the  boat-house  where  Gillespie  waited. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 


Maybe  in  spite  of  their  tameless  days 

Of  outcast  liberty, 
They're  sick  at  heart  for  the  homely  ways 

Where  their  gathered  brothers  be. 

And  oft  at  night,  when  the  plains  fall  dark 

And  hills  loom  large  and  dim, 
For  the  shepherd's  voice  they  mutely  hark, 

And  their  souls  go  out  to  him. 

Meanwhile  "Black  sheep!  black  sheep!"  we  cry, 

Safe  in  the  inner  fold: 
And  maybe  they  hear,  and  wonder  why, 

And  marvel,  out  in  the  cold. 

— Richard  Burton. 

Gillespie  was  smoking  his  pipe  on  the  boat-house 
steps.  He  had  come  over  from  the  village  in  his  own 
launch,  which  tossed  placidly  beside  mine.  Ijima  stepped 
forward  promptly  with  a  lantern  as  I  ran  out  upon  the 
planking  of  the  pier. 

"Jump  into  my  launch,  Gillespie,  and  be  in  a  hurry !" 
and  to  my  relief  he  obeyed  without  his  usual  parley. 
Ijima  cast  us  off,  the  engine  sputtered  a  moment,,  and 

365 


366  ROSALIND   AT   EED   GATE 

then  the  launch  got  away.  I  bade  Gillespie  steer,  and 
when  we  were  free  of  the  pier  told  him  to  head  for  the 
Tippecanoe. 

The  handful  of  stars  that  had  brightened  against  the 
sky  had  been  a  real  shock,  and  I  accused  myself  in  se 
vere  terms  for  having  left  Arthur  Holbrook  alone.  As 
we  swept  into  the  open  Glenarm  House  stood  forth 
from  the  encircling  wood,  marked  by  the  bright  lights 
of  the  terrace  where  Miss  Pat  had,  with  so  much  com 
posure  and  in  so  few  words,  made  comedy  of  my  attempt 
to  shield  Helen.  I  had  certainly  taken  chances,  but  I 
had  reckoned  only  with  a  man's  wits,  which,  to  say  the 
least,  are  not  a  woman's ;  and  I  had  contrived  a  new  situ 
ation  and  had  now  incurred  the  wrath  and  indignation 
of  three  women  where  there  had  been  but  one  before! 
In  throwing  off  my  coat  my  hand  touched  the  envelope 
containing  the  forged  notes  which  I  had  thrust  into  my 
pocket  before  dinner,  and  the  contact  sobered  me ;  there 
was  still  a  chance  for  me  to  be  of  use.  But  at  the  thought 
of  what  might  be  occurring  at  the  house-boat  on  the  Tip 
pecanoe  I  forced  the  launch's  speed  to  the  limit.  Gil 
lespie  still  maintained  silence,  grimly  clenching  his 
empty  pipe.  He  now  roused  himself  and  bawled  at  rne : 

"Did  you  ever  meet  the  coroner  of  this  county  ?" 


"WITH    MY   HANDS"  367 

"No !"  I  shouted. 

"Well,  you  will — coining  down!  You'll  blow  up  in 
about  three  minutes." 

I  did  not  slow  down  until  we  reached  Battle  Orchard, 
where  it  was  necessary  to  feel  our  way  across  the  shal 
low  channel.  Here  I  shut  off  the  power  and  paddled 
with  an  oar. 

As  we  floated  by  the  island  a  lantern  flashed  at  the 
water's  edge  and  disappeared.  But  my  first  errand  was 
at  the  canoe-maker's ;  the  whereabouts  of  Helen  and  the 
Stiletto  were  questions  that  must  wait. 

We  were  soon  creeping  along  the  margin  of  the  second 
lake  seeking  the  creek,  whose  intake  quickly  lay  hold 
of  us. 

"We'll  land  just  inside,  on  the  west  bank,  Gillespie." 
A  moment  later  we  jumped  out  and  secured  the  launch. 
I  wrapped  our  lantern  in  Gillespie's  coat,  and  ran  up 
the  bank  to  the  path.  At  the  top  I  turned  and  spoke  to 
him. 

"You'll  have  to  trust  me.  I  don't  know  what  may  be 
happening  here,  but  surely  our  interests  are  the  same  to 
night." 

He  caught  me  roughly  by  the  arm. 

"If  this  means  any  injury  to  Helen — " 


368  ROSALIND    AT    RED    GATE 

"No!  It  is  for  her!"  And  he  followed  silently  at 
my  heels  toward  Red  Gate. 

The  calm  of  the  summer  night  lay  upon  the  creek  that 
babbled  drowsily  in  its  bed.  We  seemed  to  have  this 
corner  of  the  world  to  ourselves,  and  the  thump  of  our 
feet  in  the  path  broke  heavily  on  the  night  silence.  As 
we  crossed  the  lower  end  of  the  garden  I  saw  the  cottage 
mistily  outlined  among  the  trees  near  the  highway,  and, 
remembering  Gillespie's  unfamiliarity  with  the  place,  I 
checked  my  pace  to  guide  him.  I  caught  a  glimpse 
of  the  lights  of  the  house-boat  below. 

The  voices  of  two  men  in  loud  debate  rang  out  sharply 
upon  us  through  the  open  windows  of  the  house-boat  as 
we  crept  down  upon  the  deck.  Then  followed  the  sound 
of  blows,  and  the  rattle  of  furniture  knocked  about,  and 
as  we  reached  the  door  a  lamp  fell  with  a  crash  and  the 
place  was  dark.  We  seemed  to  strike  matches  at  the  same 
instant,  and  as  they  blazed  upon  their  sticks  we  looked 
clown  upon  Arthur  Holbrook,  who  lay  sprawling  with  his 
arms  outflung  on  the  floor,  and  over  him  stood  his 
brother  with  hands  clenched,  his  face  twitching. 

"I  have  killed  him — I  have  killed  him !"  he  muttered 
several  times  in  a  low  whisper.  "I  had  to  do  it.  There 
no  other  way." 


"WITH   MY    HANDS"  369 

My  blood  went  cold  at  the  thought  that  we  were  too 
late.  Gillespie  was  fumbling  about,  striking  matches, 
and  I  was  somewhat  reassured  by  the  sound  of  my  own 
voice  as  I  called  him. 

"There  are  candles  at  the  side — make  a  light,  Gil 
lespie." 

And  soon  we  were  taking  account  of  one  another  in 
the  soft  candle-light. 

"I  must  go,"  said  Henry  huskily,  looking  stupidly 
down  upon  his  brother,  who  lay  quite  still,  his  head  rest 
ing  on  his  arm. 

"You  will  stay,"  I  said ;  and  I  stood  beside  him  while 
Gillespie  filled  a  pail  at  the  creek  and  laved  Arthur's 
wrists  and  temples  with  cool  water.  We  worked  a  quar 
ter  of  an  hour  before  he  gave  any  signs  of  life ;  but  when 
he  opened  his  eyes  Henry  flung  himself  down  in  a  chair 
and  mopped  his  forehead. 

"He  is  not  dead,"  he  said,  grinning  foolishly. 

"Where  is  Helen?"  I  demanded. 

"She's  safe,"  he  replied  cunningly,  nodding  his  head. 
"I  suppose  Pat  has  sent  you  to  take  her  back.  She  may 
go,  if  you  have  brought  my  money."  Cunning  and  greed, 
and  the  marks  of  drink,  had  made  his  face  repulsive. 
Gillespie  got  Arthur  to  his  feet  a  moment  later,  and  I 


370  ROSALIND   AT   EED    GATE 

gave  him  brandy  from  a  flask  in  the  cupboard.  His 
brother's  restoration  seemed  now  to  amuse  Henry. 

"It  was  a  mere  love-tap.  You're  tougher  than  you 
look,  Arthur.  It's  the  simple  life  down  here  in  the 
woods.  My  own  nerves  are  all  gone."  He  turned  to  me 
with  the  air  of  dominating  the  situation.  "I'm  glad 
you've  come,  you  and  our  friend  of  button  fame.  Bivals, 
gentlemen?  A  friendly  rivalry  for  my  daughter's  hand 
flatters  the  house  of  Holbrook.  Between  ourselves  I  fa 
vor  you,  Mr.  Donovan;  the  button-making  business  is 
profitable,  but  damned  vulgar.  Now,  Helen — " 

"That  will  do !" — and  I  clapped  my  hand  on  his  shoul 
der  roughly.  "I  have  business  with  you.  Your  sister  is 
ready  to  settle  with  you;  but  she  wishes  to  see  Arthur 
first." 

"No — no!  She  must  not  see  him!"  He  leaped  for 
ward  and  caught  hold  of  me.  "She  must  not  see  him !" 
— and  his  cowardly  fear  angered  me  anew. 

''You  will  do,  Mr.  Holbrook,  very  much  as  I  tell  you 
in  this  matter.  I  intend  that  your  sister  shall  see  her 
brother  Arthur  to-night,  and  time  flies.  This  last  play 
of  yours,  this  flimsy  trick  of  kidnapping,  was  sprung  at 
a  very  unfortunate  moment.  It  has  delayed  the  settle 
ment  and  done  a  grave  injury  to  your  daughter." 


"WITH    MY   HANDS"  371 

"Helen  would  have  it;  it  was  her  idea!" 

"If  you  speak  of  your  daughter  again  in  such  a  way 
I  will  break  your  neck  and  throw  you  into  the  creek !" 

He  stared  a  moment,  then  laughed  aloud. 

"So  you  are  the  one — are  you?  I  really  thought  it 
was  Buttons." 

"I  am  the  one,  Mr.  Holbrook.  And  now  I  am  going 
to  take  your  brother  to  your  sister.  She  has  asked  for 
him,  and  she  is  waiting." 

Arthur  Holbrook  came  gravely  toward  us,  and  I  have 
never  been  so  struck  with  pity  for  a  man  as  I  was  for 
him.  There  was  a  red  circle  on  his  brow  where  Henry's 
knuckles  had  cut,  but  his  eyes  showed  no  anger;  they 
were  even  kind  with  the  tenderness  that  lies  in  the 
eyes  of  women  who  have  suffered.  He  advanced  a  step 
nearer  his  brother  and  spoke  slowly  and  distinctly. 

"You  have  nothing  to  fear,  Henry.  I  shall  tell  her 
nothing." 

"But" — Henry  glanced  uneasily  from  Gillespie  to  me 
— "Gillespie's  notes.  They  are  here  among  you  some 
where.  You  shall  not  give  them  to  Pat.  If  she  knew — " 

"If  she  knew  you  would  not  get  a  cent,"  I  said,  wish 
ing  him  to  know  that  I  knew. 

He  whirled  upon  me  hotly. 


372  ROSALIND    AT    RED    GATE 

"You  tricked  Helen  to  get  them,  and  now,  by  God !  I 
want  them !  I  want  them !"  And  he  struck  at  me  crazily. 
I  knocked  his  arm  away,  but  he  flung  himself  upon  me, 
clasping  me  with  his  arms.  I  caught  his  wrists  and  held 
him  for  a  moment.  I  wished  to  be  done  with  him  and 
off  to  Glenarm  with  Arthur ;  and  he  wasted  time. 

"I  have  that  packet  you  sent  Helen  to  get — I  have  it — 
still  unopened !  Your  secret  is  as  safe  with  me,  Mr.  Hoi- 
brook,  as  that  other  secret  of  yours  with  your  Italian 
body-guard." 

His  face  went  white,  then  gray,  and  he  would  have 
fallen  if  I  had  not  kept  hold  of  him. 

"Will  you  not  be  decent — reasonable — sane — for  an 
hour,  till  we  can  present  you  as  an  honorable  man  to 
your  sister  ?  If  you  will  not,  your  sailor  shall  deliver  you 
to  the  law  with  his  own  hands.  You  delay  matters — 
can't  you  see  that  we  are  your  friends,  that  we  are  trying 
to  protect  you,  that  we  are  ready  to  lie  to  your  sister 
that  we  may  be  rid  of  you  ?" 

I  was  beside  myself  with  rage  and  impatient  that  time 
must  be  wasted  on  him.  I  did  not  hear  steps  on  the 
deck,  or  Gillespie's  quick  warning,  and  I  had  begun 
again,  still  holding  Henry  Holbrook  close  to  me  with  one 
hand. 


"WITH   MY   HANDS"  373 

"We  expect  to  deceive  your  sister — we  will  lie  to  her — 
lie  to  her — lie  to  her — " 

"For  God's  sake,  stop!"  cried  Arthur  Holbrook, 
clutching  my  arm. 

I  flung  round  and  faced  Miss  Pat  and  Eosalind.  They 
stood  for  a  moment  in  the  doorway ;  then  Miss  Pat  ad 
vanced  slowly  toward  us  where  we  formed  a  little  semi 
circle,  and  as  I  dropped  Henry's  wrists  the  brothers 
stood  side  by  side.  Arthur  took  a  step  forward,  half  mur 
muring  his  sister's  name ;  then  he  drew  back  and  waited, 
his  head  bowed,  his  hands  thrust  into  the  side  pockets  of 
his  coat.  In  the  dead  quiet  I  heard  the  babble  of  the 
creek  outside,  and  when  Miss  Pat  spoke  her  voice  seemed 
to  steal  off  and  mingle  with  the  subdued  murmur  of  the 
stream. 

"Gentlemen,  what  is  it  you  wish  to  lie  to  me  about  ?" 

A  brave  little  smile  played  about  Miss  Pat's  lips.  She 
stood  there  in  the  light  of  the  candles,  all  in  white  as  I 
had  left  her  on  the  terrace  of  Glenarm,  in  her  lace  cap, 
with  only  a  light  shawl  about  her  shoulders.  I  felt  that 
the  situation  might  yet  be  saved,  and  I  was  about  to 
speak  when  Henry,  with  some  wild  notion  of  justifying 
himself,  broke  out  stridently : 

"Yes ;  they  meant  to  lie  to  you !  They  plotted  against 


374:  ROSALIND   AT   RED    GATE 

me  and  hounded  me  when  I  wished  to  see  you  peaceably 
and  to  make  amends.  They  have  now  charged  me  with 
murder ;  they  are  ready  to  swear  away  my  honor,  my  life, 
I  am  glad  you  are  here  that  you  may  see  for  yourself 
how  they  are  against  me." 

He  broke  off  a  little  grandly,  as  though  convinced  by 
his  own  words. 

"Yes;  father  speaks  the  truth,  as  Mr.  Donovan  can 
fell  yon!" 

I  could  have  sworn  that  it  was  Rosalind  who 
spoke ;  but  there  by  Rosalind's  side  in  the  doorway  stood 
Helen.  Her  head  was  lifted,  and  she  faced  us  all  with 
her  figure  tense,  her  eyes  blazing.  Rosalind  drew  away 
a  little,  and  I  saw  Gillespie  touch  her  hand.  It  was  as 
though  a  quicker  sense  than  sight  had  on  the  instant  un 
deceived  him ;  but  he  did  not  look  at  Rosalind ;  his  eyes 
were  upon  the  angry  girl  who  was  about  to  speak  again. 
Miss  Pat  glanced  about,  and  her  eyes  rested  on  me. 

'*Larry,  what  were  the  lies  you  were  going  to  tell  me  ?" 
she  asked,  and  smiled  again. 

"They  were  about  father ;  he  wished  to  involve  him  in 
dishonor.  But  he  shall  not,  he  shall  not !"  cried  Helen. 

"Is  that  true,  Larry?"  asked  Miss  Pat. 

"I  have  done  the  best  I  could,"  I  replied  evasively. 


"WITH    MY    HANDS"  375 

Miss  Pat  scrutinized  us  all  slowly  as  though  studying* 
our  faces  for  the  truth.  Then  she  repeated : 

"But  if  either  of  mysaut,  sons  shall  have  ~been  touched 
ly  dishonor  through  his  own  act,  as  honor  is  accounted, 
reckoned  and  valued  among  men — "  and  ceased  abruptly, 
looking  from  Arthur  to  Henry.  "What  was  the  truth 
about  Gillespie  ?"  she  asked. 

And  Arthur  would  have  spoken.  I  saw  the  word  that 
would  have  saved  his  brother  formed  upon  his  lips. 

Miss  Pat  alone  seemed  unmoved ;  I  saw  her  hand  open 
and  shut  at  her  side  as  she  controlled  herself,  but  her 
face  was  calm  and  her  voice  was  steady  when  she  turned 
appealingly  to  the  canoe-maker. 

"What  is  the  truth,  Arthur?"  she  asked  quietly. 

"Why  go  into  this  now  ?  Why  not  let  bygones  be  by 
gones  ?" — and  for  a  moment  I  thought  I  had  checked  the 
swift  current.  It  was  Helen  I  wished  to  save  now,  from 
herself,  from  the  avalanche  she  seemed  doomed  to  bring 
down  upon  her  head. 

"I  will  hear  what  you  have  to  say,  Arthur,"  said  Miss 
Pat ;  and  I  knew  that  there  was  no  arresting  the  tide.  I 
snatched  out  the  sealed  envelope  and  turned  with  it  to 
Arthur  Holbrook;  and  he  took  it  into  his  hands  and 
turned  it  over  quietly,  though  his  hands  trembled. 


376  ROSALIND   AT    EED    GATE 

«'Tell  me  the  truth,  gentlemen !"— and  Miss  Pat's 
voice  thrilled  now  with  anger. 

"Trickery,  more  trickery;  those  were  stolen  from 
Helen !"  blurted  Henry,  his  eyes  on  the  envelope ;  but  we 
were  waiting  for  the  canoe-maker  to  speak,  and  Henry's 
words  rang  emptily  in  the  shop. 

Arthur  looked  at  his  brother ;  then  he  faced  his  sister. 

"Henry  is  not  guilty,"  he  said  calmly. 

He  turned  with  a  quick  gesture  and  thrust  the  en 
velope  into  the  flame  of  one  of  the  candles;  but  Helen 
sprang  forward  and  caught  away  the  blazing  packet  and 
smothered  the  flame  between  her  hands. 

"We  will  keep  the  proof,"  she  said  in  a  tone  of  tri 
umph  ;  and  I  knew  then  how  completely  she  had  believed 
in  her  father. 

"I  don't  know  what  is  in  that  packet,"  said  Gillespie 
slowly,  speaking  for  the  first  time.  "It  has  never  been 
opened.  My  lawyer  told  me  that  father  had  sworn  to  a 
statement  about  the  trouble  with  Holbrook  Brothers  and 
placed  it  with  the  notes.  My  father  was  a  peculiar  man 
in  some  ways,"  continued  Gillespie,  embarrassed  by  the 
attention  that  was  now  riveted  upon  him.  "His  lawyer 
told  me  that  I  was  to  open  that  package — before — before 
marrying  into" — and  he  grew  red  and  stammered  help- 


"WITH   MY   HANDS"  377 

lessly,  with  his  eyes  on  the  floor — "before  marrying  into 
the  Holbrook  family.  I  gave  up  that  packet" — and  lie 
hesitated,  coloring,  and  turning  from  Helen  to  Rosalind 
— "by  mistake.  But  it's  mine,  and  I  demand  it  now." 

"I  wish  Aunt  Pat  to  open  the  envelope,"  said  Rosa 
lind,  very  white. 

Henry  turned  a  look  of  appeal  upon  his  brother;  but 
Miss  Pat  took  the  envelope  from  Helen  and  tore  it  open ; 
and  we  stood  by  as  though  we  waited  for  death  or 
watched  earth  fall  upon  a  grave.  She  bent  down  to  one 
of  the  candles  nearest  her  and  took  out  the  notes,  which 
were  wrapped  in  a  sheet  of  legal  cap.  A  red  seal  bright 
ened  in  the  light,  and  we  heard  the  slight  rattle  of  the 
paper  in  her  tremulous  fingers  as  she  read.  Suddenly 
a  tear  flashed  upon  the  white  sheet.  When  she  had  quite 
finished  she  gathered  Gillespie's  statement  and  the  notes 
in  her  hand  and  turned  and  gave  them  to  Henry;  but 
she  did  not  speak  to  him  or  meet  his  eyes.  She  crossed 
to  where  Arthur  stood  beside  me,  his  head  bowed,  and 
as  she  advanced  he  turned  away;  but  her  arms  stole 
over  his  shoulders  and  she  said  "Arthur"  once,  and 
again  very  softly. 

"I  think,"  she  said,  turning  toward  us  all,  with  her 
sweet  dignity,  her  brave  air,  that  touched  me  as  at  first 


378;  ROSALIND   AT    EED    GATE 

fand  always,  beyond  any  words  of  mine  to  describe,  but 
strong  and  beautiful  and  sweet  and  thrilling  through  me 
now,  like  bugles  blown  at  dawn;  "I  think  that  we  do 
well,  Arthur,  to  give  Henry  his  money/' 

And  now  it  was  Arthur's  voice  that  rose  in  the  shop ; 
and  it  seemed  that  he  spoke  of  his  brother  as  of  one  who 
was  afar  off.  We  listened  with  painful  intentness  to 
this  man  who  had  suffered  much  and  given  much,  and 
who  still,  in  his  simple  heart,  asked  no  praise  for  what  he 
had  done. 

"He  was  so  strong,  and  I  was  weak ;  and  I  did  for  him 
what  I  could.  And  what  I  gave,  I  gave  freely,  for  it  is 
not  often  in  this  world  that  the  weak  may  help  the 
strong.  He  had  the  gifts,  Pat,  that  I  had  not,  and  troops 
of  friends ;  and  he  had  ambitions  that  in  my  weakness  I 
was  not  capable  of ;  so  I  had  not  much  to  give.  But  what 
I  had,  Pat,  I  gave  to  him ;  I  went  to  Gillespie  and  con 
fessed  ;  I  took  the  blame ;  and  I  came  here  and  worked 
with  my  hands — with  my  hands — "  And  he  extended 
them  as  though  the  proof  were  asked;  and  kept  repeat 
ing,  between  his  sobs,  "With  my  hands." 


CHAPTER  XXV 

DAYBREAK 

Just  as  of  old!   The  world  rolls  on  and  on; 
The  day  dies  into  night — night  into  dawn — 
Dawn  into  dusk — through  centuries  untold.—- 
Just  as  of  old. 


Lo!  where  is  the  beginning,  where  the  end 
Of  living,  loving,  longing?    Listen,  friend! — 
God  answers  with  a  silence  of  pure  gold — 
Just  as  of  old. 

— James  Whitcomb  Riley. 

At  midnight  Gillespie  and  I  discussed  the  day's  af 
fairs  on  the  terrace  at  Glenarm.  There  were  long 
pauses  in  our  talk.  Such  things  as  we  had  seen  and 
heard  that  night,  in  the  canoe-maker's  shop  on  the  little 
creek,  were  beyond  our  poor  range  of  words.  And  in  the 
silences  my  own  reflections  were  not  wholly  happy. 
If  Miss  Pat  and  Rosalind  had  not  followed  me  to  the 
canoe-maker's  I  might  have  spared  Helen;  but  looking 
back,  I  would  not  change  it  now  if  I  could.  Helen  had 
returned  to  St.  Agatha's  with  her  aunt,  who  would  have 

379 


380  ROSALIND   AT   EED    GATE 

it  so;  and  we  had  parted  at  the  school  door,  Miss  Pat 
and  Helen,  Gillespie  and  I,  with  restraint  heavy  upon 
us  all.  Miss  Pat  had,  it  seemed,  summoned  her  lawyer 
from  New  York  several  days  before,  to  discuss  the 
final  settlement  of  her  father's  estate;  and  he  was  ex 
pected  the  next  morning.  I  had  asked  them  all  to  Glen- 
arm  for  breakfast;  and  Arthur  Holbrook  and  Rosalind, 
and  Henry,  who-  had  broken  down  at  the  end,  had  agreed 
to  coma 

As  we  talked  on,  Gillespie  and  I,  there  under  the 
stars,  he  disclosed,  all  unconsciously,  new  and  surpris 
ing  traits,  and  I  felt  my  heart  warming  to  him. 

"He's  a  good  deal  of  a  man,  that  Arthur  Holbrook," 
he  remarked  after  a  long  pause.  "He's  beyond  me.  The 
man  who  runs  the  enemy's  lines  to  bring  relief  to  the 
garrison,  or  the  leader  of  a  forlorn  hope,  is  tame  after 
this.  I  suppose  the  world  would  call  him  a  fool." 

"Undoubtedly,"  I  answered.  "But  he  didn't  do  it  for 
the  world;  he  did  it  for  himself.  We  can't  applaud  a 
thing  like  that  in  the  usual  phrases." 

"No,"  Gillespie  added;  "only  get  down  on  our  knees 
and  bow  our  heads  in  the  dust  before  it." 

He  rose  and  paced  the  long  terrace.  In  his  boat-shoes 
and  white  flannels  he  glided  noiselessly  back  and  forth, 


DAYBEEAK  381 

like  a  ghost  in  the  star  dusk.  He  paused  at  the  western 
balustrade  and  looked  off  at  St.  Agatha's.  Then  he 
passed  me  and  paused  again,  gazing  lakeward  through 
the  wood,  as  though  turning  from  Helen  to  Eosalind; 
and  I  knew  that  it  was  with  her,  far  over  the  water, 
in  the  little  cottage  at  Eed  Gate,  that  his  thoughts  lin 
gered.  But  when  he  came  and  stood  beside  me  and  rested 
his  hand  on  my  shoulder  I  knew  that  he  wished  to  speak 
of  Helen  and  I  took  his  hand,  and  spoke  to  him  to  make 
it  easier. 

"Well,  old  man  I" 

"I  was  thinking  of  Helen/'  he  said. 

"So  was  I,  Buttons." 

"They  are  different,  the  two.  They  are  very  different." 

"They  are  as  like  as  God  ever  made  two  people;  and 
yet  they  are  different." 

"I  think  you  understand  Helen.  I  never  did,"  he  de 
clared  mournfully. 

"You  don't  have  to,"  I  replied;  and  laughed,  and 
rose  and  stood  beside  him.  "And  now  there's  something 
I  want  to  speak  to  you  about  to-night.  Helen  borrowed 
some  money  of  you  a  little  while  ago  to  meet  one  of 
her  father's  demands.  I  expect  a  draft  for  that  money 
by  the  morning  mail,  and  I  want  you  to  accept  it  with 


382  EOSALIND   AT    BED    GATE 

my  thanks,  and  hers.  And  the  incident  shall  pass  as 
though  it  had  never  been." 

About  one  o'clock  the  wind  freshened  and  the  trees 
flung  out  their  arms  like  runners  rushing  before  it; 
and  from  the  west  marched  a  storm  with  banners  of 
lightning.  It  was  a  splendid  spectacle,  and  we  went 
indoors  only  when  the  rain  began  to  wash  across  the 
terrace.  We  still  watched  it  from  our  windows  after  we 
went  up-stairs,  the  lightning  now  blazing  out  blindingly, 
like  sheets  of  flame  from  a  furnace  door,  and  again 
cracking  about  the  house  like  a  fiery  whip. 

"We  ought  to  have  brought  Henry  here  to-night,"  re 
marked  Gillespie.  "He's  alone  over  there  on  the  island 
with  that  dago  and  they're  very  likely  celebrating  by 
getting  drunk." 

"The  lightning's  getting  on  your  nerves;  go  to  bed,"  I 
called  back. 

The  storm  left  peace  behind  and  I  was  abroad  early, 
eager  to  have  the  first  shock  of  the  morning's  meetings 
over.  Gillespie  greeted  me  cheerily  and  I  told  him  to 
follow  when  he  was  ready.  I  went  out  and  paced  the 
walk  between  the  house  and  St.  Agatha's,  and  as  I  peered 
through  the  iron  gate  I  saw  Miss  Pat  come  out  of  the 
house  and  turn  into  the  garden.  I  came  upon  her  walk- 


DAYBEEAK  383 

ing  slowly  with  her  hands  clasped  behind  her.  She  spoke 
first,  as  though  to  avoid  any  expression  of  sympathy, 
putting  out  her  hand. 

Filmy  lace  at  the  wrists  gave  to  her  hands  a  quaint 
touch  akin  to  that  imparted  by  the  cap  on  her  white 
head.  I  was  struck  afresh  by  the  background  that  seemed 
always  to  be  sketched  in  for  her,  and  just  now,  beyond 
the  bright  garden,  it  was  a  candle-lighted  garret,  with 
trunks  of  old  letters  tied  in  dim  ribbons,  and  lavender 
scented  chests  of  Valenciennes  and  silks  in  forgotten 
patterns. 

"I  am  well,  quite  well,  Larry  I" 

"I  am  glad !  I  wished  to  be  sure !" 

"Do  not  trouble  about  me.  I  am  glad  of  everything 
that  has  happened — glad  and  relieved.  And  I  am  grate 
ful  to  you/' 

"I  have  served  you  ill  enough.  I  stumbled  in  the  dark 
much  of  the  time.  I  wanted  to  spare  you,  Miss  Pat." 

"I  know  that;  and  you  tried  to  save  Helen.  She  was 
blind  and  misguided.  She  had  believed  in  her  father  and 
the  last  blow  crushed  her.  Everything  looks  dark  to 
her.  She  refuses  to  come  over  this  morning;  she  thinks 
she  can  not  face  her  uncle,  her  cousin  or  you  again." 

"But  she  must  come,"  I  said.    "It  will  be  easier  to- 


384  ROSALIND   AT   EED    GATE 

day  than  at  any  later  time.  There's  Gillespie,  calling 
me  now.  He's  going  across  the  lake  to  meet  Arthur 
and  Rosalind.  I  shall  take  the  launch  over  to  the 
island  to  bring  Henry.  We  should  all  be  back  at 
Glenarm  in  an  hour.  Please  tell  Helen  that  we  must 
have  her,  that  no  one  should  stay  away." 

Miss  Pat  looked  at  me  oddly,  and  her  fingers  touched 
a  stalk  of  hollyhock  beside  her  as  her  eyes  rested  on 
mine. 

"Larry/'  she  said,  "do  not  be  sorry  for  Helen  if  pity 
is  all  you  have  for  her." 

I  laughed  and  seized  her  hands. 

"Miss  Pat,  I  could  not  feel  pity  for  any  one  so  skilled 
with  the  sword  as  she !  It  would  be  gratuitous !  She 
put  up  a  splendid  fight,  and  if  s  to  her  credit  that  she 
stood  by  her  father  and  resented  my  interference,  as 
she  had  every  right  to.  She  was  not  really  against  you, 
Miss  Pat;  it  merely  happened  that  you  were  in  the 
way  when  she  struck  at  me  with  the  foil,  don't  you  see?" 

"Not  just  that  way,  Larry," — and  she  continued  to 
gaze  at  me  with  a  sweet  distress  in  her  eyes;  then, 
"Rosalind  is  very  different,"  she  added. 

"I  have  observed  it!  The  ways  in  which  they  are 
utterly  unlike  are  remarkable;  but  I  mustn't  keep  Gil- 


DAYBREAK  385 

lespie  waiting.  Good-by  for  a  little  while!"  And  some 
foreboding  told  me  that  sorrow  had  not  yet  done  with 
her. 

Gillespie  shouted  impatiently  as  I  ran  toward  him  at 
the  boa,i>house. 

"It's  the  Stiletto/'  he  called,  pointing  to  where  the 
sloop  lay,  midway  of  the  lake.  "She's  in  a  bad  way." 

"The  storm  blew  her  out/'  I  suggested,  but  the  sight 
of  the  boat,  listing  badly  as  though  water-logged,  struck 
me  ominously. 

"We'd  better  pick  her  up,"  he  said;  and  he  was  al 
ready  dropping  one  of  the  canoes  into  the  water.  We 
paddled  swiftly  toward  the  sloop.  The  lake  was  still 
fretful  from  the  storm's  lashing,  but  the  sky  was  without 
neck  or  flaw.  The  earliest  of  the  little  steamers  was 
crossing  from  the  village,  her  whistle  echoing  and  re 
echoing  round  the  lake. 

"The  sloop's  about  done  for,"  said  Gillespie  over  his 
shoulder ;  and  we  drove  our  blades  deeper.  The  Stiletto 
was  floating  stern-on  and  rolling  loggily,  but  retaining 
still,  I  thought,  something  of  the  sinister  air  that  she 
had  worn  on  her  strange  business  through  those  summer 
days. 

"She  went  to  bed  all  right;  see,  her  sails  are  furled 


386  ROSALIND   AT   RED    GATE 

snug  and  everything's  in  shape.  The  storm  drove  her 
over  here,"  said  Gillespie.  "She's  struck  something,  or 
somebody's  smashed  her." 

It  seemed  impossible  that  the  storm  unassisted  had 
blown  her  from  Battle  Orchard  across  Lake  Annandale ; 
but  we  were  now  close  upon  her  and  seeking  for  means 
of  getting  aboard. 

"She's  a  bit  sloppy,"  observed  Gillespie  as  we  swung 
round  and  caught  hold.  The  water  gurgled  drunkenly 
in  the  cuddy,  and  a  broken  lantern  rattled  on  the  deck. 
I  held  fast  as  he  climbed  over,  sending  me  off  a  little 
as  he  jumped  aboard,  and  I  was  working  back  again 
with  the  paddle  when  he  cried  out  in  alarm. 

As  I  came  alongside  he  came  back  to  help  me,  and 
when  he  bent  over  to  catch  the  painter,  I  saw  that  his 
face  was  white. 

"We  might  have  known  it,"  he  said.  "It's  the  last 
and  worst  that  could  happen." 

Face  down  across  the  cuddy  lay  the  body  of  Henry 
Holbrook.  His  water-soaked  clothing  was  torn  as  though 
in  a  fierce  struggle.  A  knife  thrust  in  the  side  told  the 
story;  he  had  crawled  to  the  cuddy  roof  to  get  away 
from  the  water  and  had  died  there. 

"It  was  the  Italian,"  said  Gillespie.  "They  musf  have 


DAYBREAK  387 

had  a  row  last  night  after  we  left  them,  and  it  came  to 
this.  He  chopped  a  hole  in  the  Stiletto  and  set  her  adrift 
to  sink." 

I  looked  about  for  the  steamer,  which  was  backing 
away  from  the  pier  at  Port  Annandale,  and  signaled  her 
with  my  handkerchief.  And  when  I  faced  Gillespie 
again  he  pointed  silently  toward  the  lower  lake,  where 
a  canoe  rode  the  bright  water. 

Rosalind  and  her  father  were  on  their  way  from  Red 
Gate  to  Glenarm.  Two  blades  flashed  in  the  sun  as  the 
canoe  came  toward  us.  Gillespie's  lips  quivered  and  he 
tried  to  speak  as  he  pointed  to  them ;  and  then  we  both 
turned  silently  toward  St.  Agatha's,  where  the  chapel 
tower  rose  above  the  green  wood. 

"Stay  and  do  what  is  to  be  done,"  I  said.  "I  will  find 
Helen  and  tell  her." 


THE  END 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 

Return  to  desk  from  which  borrowed. 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


29Aug'53BW 

SEP  5     19531 


1996 


LD  21-100TO-7,'52(A2528sl6)476 


U.  C.  BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


CDSSDSEflMS 


